The Queen's Hand
by FountainOfPens
Summary: There is no Avatar, and the Fire Nation rules. When Zuko is exiled for aiding an unsuccessful rebellion against Fire Lord Ozai, Iroh tells him to flee to Ba Sing Se, where the Queen of Thieves offers protection to refugees and misfits of all sorts. But earning her trust and his place in her court will not be easy… Zutara AU, so liberties will be taken.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, whoops, I accidentally wrote an AU where Katara is the most powerful crime lord in all of Ba Sing Se! There will be a bit of plot before there is porn, but there should be enough UST and banter to tide you over till then. Keep in mind that this is AU, so I've made some slight edits to the characters' pasts for reasons of sense-making or inclination, and that Katara in particular might seem pretty OOC at the start. You should start to recognize her a little more as the story progresses. Zuko is, of course, still Zuko. Please don't forget to favorite and review if you enjoy this!

I. Traitors

Katara paced around the room without speaking, without even looking at her captive. The man was bound and submerged up to his neck in water. Apart from the wooden tank in which he stood, soaked to the skin, the room was bare of furniture. The only indicator of her immense wealth in that space was the dark mahogany of the walls. And, of course, the jewels and silks she habitually wore. Katara smiled grimly. It was good to be Queen.

At last she turned to face the man in the water. "Well?" she asked, her voice light. "Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Jet glared back at her. "No. Just kill me and be done with it." It was an order, which was a mistake. Katara didn't take orders. Not anymore.

She stepped closer and cupped his cheek. "Really, Jet," she said in a voice of poisoned honey. "After everything I've done for you, you dare to defy me?"

He shrugged one shoulder, casual, careless as ever. "You used me. I used you. That's how it works. You of all people should know that."

Katara's eyes narrowed and she took her hand away from his face. "Is that what you think? Well, fair enough. But what I can't figure out is why you thought revealing my hideout's location to the Dai Li would work." She inspected her finely manicured nails. "Don't you think they'd have killed me outright by now, if they could?" He didn't answer. Suddenly she slapped him. "They have known where this place is for years, Jet," she hissed. "Whoever they sent to deal with you really screwed you. I thought I taught you better than that."

Now Jet was bewildered and panicked. "What? Then why—"

"They wanted to take _you_ out, idiot. They thought that if they convinced my consort to betray me, I'd soften up. They were going to pump you for information, and when they were done, they were gonna throw you right in the river to rot. Do you think they'll risk coming for you now?" He said nothing, radiating shock—and fear. "And they were stupid enough to think that I'd be all torn up over you. To think that I would let _you_ slow me down." She bent close to his face and whispered, "Ba Sing Se is _mine_ , Jet. I fought for it, and I won. And no one will _ever_ take it from me." She bent right to his ear and finished, "Least of all a whiny, arrogant, _useless_ little gutter rat like you." She slowly curled her hands into the starting position. "Now beg."

"Katara," he said, his voice low and shaky, eyes wide, "Katara. I promise, I will do whatever it takes to win your trust back. I'll tell you who I talked to in the Dai Li. I will paint the streets with their blood in your honor. I'll do anything, just don't kill me—"

Katara smiled. "No." And she shot a bolt of ice 2 inches thick right through his neck. As he gurgled, choking on his own blood, she turned and left the room without looking back.

#

The Dragon of the West stared into the cage where his nephew slept, shoulder pressed uncomfortably tight to the wall. "Oh, Zuko," he murmured. "After everything I've done for you."

Zuko's eyes snapped open. "Uncle!"

"Storming into the palace with no disguise and no plan. Getting captured almost immediately and sentenced to death. Had Ozai any sense of irony, he would appreciate how alike the two of you are," Iroh continued in a stern voice.

Zuko flinched and strained against his bonds, hissing in pain. They had broken his fingers so that he couldn't bend. He growled and said, "I am _not_ like him, Uncle. Ozai is insane. You know it. He is hurting our people. I had to do something!"

Iroh held his glare. "I see. And why not just kill him quietly in his bed, sparing your friends' lives and your own?" Zuko looked away, and Iroh's expression softened. "You couldn't do it, could you. No, no, don't feel ashamed. It does you credit." His nephew still did not look up. Iroh continued gently, "Then why not hire an assassin? Give him the key, let him do the dirty work?"

Zuko raised his gaze back to his uncle's. "Honor," he said solemnly. "He is my father. It would not… be right, to force someone else to shoulder the burden of ending him."

Iroh nodded slowly. "I see. And what would you have done about Azula? She would have fought you, you know."

"I would have helped her. I would have made her see…" Zuko trailed off and looked away.

Iroh sighed. "My boy." He leaned down to cup Zuko's cheek. "You are so brave. But bravery means little if it is not accompanied by intelligence and forethought."

"I am proud to die for my country. For my people," Zuko hissed, his voice urgent and earnest.

"Yes, I can see that." Iroh took the dagger from his belt. Zuko closed his eyes… and felt his hair fall down his back as Iroh cut off his topknot. "How about you live for it instead?"

Zuko opened his eyes. "What?"

Iroh reached into his robes and pulled out a key, waggling his eyebrows with his characteristic humor. He put it into the lock and opened the door. Still in shock, Zuko did not move. With a flick of his wrist and a brief smell of smoke, Iroh burned away the bonds tying his hands. "One day, the Fire Nation will need your strength, Zuko. And your honor. But that day was not today. Live to fight another. Live, and perhaps one day, you will redeem this nation's honor, and your family's."

Zuko's eyes were filling with tears. "Where will I go, Uncle?" he asked in a soft voice.

"I have chartered a carriage. It will take you to the edge of the Earth Kingdom. I got you papers, but they alone will not keep you safe. Go to Ba Sing Se. Find the Queen of Thieves. Make her the right offer, and she will protect you in return." He offered a hand to his nephew, who took it, his legs still shaking. They stared at each other for a moment before Zuko jerked him into a tight hug. "Go, Zuko. I will find you when I can."

"Agni look kindly on you, Uncle," Zuko said into his shoulder. After another moment, he whispered, "I wish every day that you had been my sire."

Iroh was speechless. He merely hugged Zuko tighter and then turned him towards the door. "Go now. I put sleeping powder in the guards' tea." He flashed a grin. "My signature blend, so they would never have refused." Zuko nodded dumbly and started to run. As he was about to turn the corner, Iroh yelled, "Zuko!" The boy looked back, his eyes full of emotion. "Be careful. I love you." Zuko nodded, and then he ran into the darkness.

#

Several hours of uneasy sleep as the carriage bumped and thudded along the roads. His dreams were full of fire and blood. His father's eyes, watching coldly as his guards broke his son's fingers. Mai, poor Mai, as she was sliced through the chest with one of her own knives by his father's soldiers. So many dead because of his stupidity. It was all so much.

He opened his eyes and blearily slumped closer to the window, twitching the curtain aside so that he could see how close they were to the Earth Kingdom. Had they been followed? He doubted it. Unlike himself, Uncle was a strategist. He would have made sure that the driver was loyal, that no one saw them.

Agni, his fingers ached. There had been no time to set them. He would have to see a healer as soon as possible when he got to Ba Sing Se or risk being crippled forever. A discreet healer. His broken fingers would mark him as a criminal and a bender. He wanted to cry.

It had all started with the burning of Chiangsu. The village had been identified as a hotbed of resistance to Ozai's rule, so the Fire Lord had ordered it razed on the recommendation of one of his generals. Zuko had protested, and then the general had challenged him to an Agni Kai. But when Zuko entered the ring, it was his father standing across from him in dueling clothes. Smiling. And when Zuko begged forgiveness, the Fire Lord singed away half his face—and the last bit of hope that somewhere deep down, his father loved him.

Iroh had begged for his life. At last, Ozai had said, "I don't care what you do with him, just as long as I don't see him." So Iroh had taken him in, tending to his damaged eye, playing endless games of Pai Sho and brewing him endless cups of tea. And life had almost returned to normal. But then Zuko got older and became restless. Though Iroh tried to protect him, he heard reports of his father's increasing cruelty. So he'd started wandering nights, wearing an old blue mask he'd found lying around. The people of the Fire Nation learned to hope again. They left notes and offerings for the Blue Spirit, their protector, their shield against Ozai's brutality. And then he'd received a note with a meeting place and a time.

Iroh knew that something was up, but let his nephew keep his secrets. Suddenly Zuko was smuggling weapons, recruiting, coordinating meetups. By then, the leaders of the rebels all knew who he was, and he strategized with them, opening the secret entrances to the palace so that they could get directly to Ozai's chambers. They'd heard through their contacts in the palace that Ozai planned to burn more villages on his birthday, more as a display of his absolute power than anything else, and decided it was time to strike. He'd led the charge, his dao swords swinging, Mai just behind him. They'd known that it would be risky, that many of them would die, but they hadn't counted on the fact that one of them had betrayed them all, alerting Ozai to the impending attack—as well as to the fact that his son would be leading it. So the guards went right for Zuko, capturing him almost immediately. He'd been made to watch as his friends were killed in front of him, and then dragged to Ozai's chambers, where the Fire Lord had his guards break his son's fingers, then had them throw him in a cell, to be executed in public the following morning.

And then, once again, Iroh had saved his life. Iroh was canny and careful, but what if Ozai found out that he'd helped his fugitive son escape? Zuko closed his eyes and offered a long prayer to Agni. Please. Not him too. Please, Agni. Watch him. Guard his steps. Shade Ozai's eyes so that he cannot see the clever old python in his nest. Please do not take him from me, Agni. Please.

And let his sacrifice not be in vain. His driver kept his silence; Prince Zuko's whispered prayers and guilty thoughts were his only company all the way to the Earth Kingdom.

#

Zuko pulled his sleeves over his thickly bandaged hands as he approached the gates of Ba Sing Se. As he approached, he went over the information he would need to give the guards. My name is Lee. I come from Hira'a. I've been offered work in the Agrarian Zone. The mark on my face is a birthmark. My hands were injured in a farming accident. But to his shock, the guards merely flicked their eyes over his papers and waved him through, the boredom plain on their faces. He stepped through the gates and turned back, starting to say, "Excuse me, how do I get to the—" but the guard closest to him rolled his eyes and yelled, "C'mon, jackass, you're holding up the line!"

And indeed he was. The crush of people flooding through the gates just shoved him forward. As Fire Prince, Zuko had lived in a world devoid of touch, save for the violence of his father and his uncle's few affectionate gestures. He had never been buffeted about so carelessly, the people around him totally indifferent to his presence, even his manifest injuries. He tried to stop a few passersby to ask directions, but they all ignored him, so he just gave up and kept walking, pulling his hands to his chest to protect them from the crowd.

Finally, as he reached the city's inner walls, the crowds started to thin somewhat. Progressing from the Agrarian Zone to the city proper, he started to see shops and streets. At last he stopped in at a tea shop to ask how to get to the Lower Ring. The portly proprietor gave him a dry look and said, "Son, you're already beaten up enough. You wanna disfigure yourself even more?"

Zuko frowned, confused. "Uh, no. Actually I am looking for a healer there, by the name of Hama. I was told—"

The proprietor shook his head. "Don't know anyone of that name, but if you keep following the wall east, you'll reach the Lower Ring." He smiled, revealing a few gold teeth. "Got a coin for my trouble?"

Zuko sighed and gingerly procured a gold piece from his pack.

#

Zuko was actually able to tell when he'd reached the Lower Ring without asking. The buildings started to look like the broken teeth of a man who'd just been punched in the mouth, crooked and half-finished. The streets became dirtier and he almost wished his uncle had packed closed slippers along with the money and a few sets of clothes. But even this part of the city had a certain charm. Clotheslines garlanded the rooftops with the pale-colored cheap-dyed clothes of the poor; windows were full of knickknacks and bric-a-brac which bravely tried to cheer up the dirty grey houses. The street-corner toughs yelled curses and greetings to each other with equal measures of joy and hostility, such that you could hardly tell who were friends and who foes. A cabbage salesman loudly hawked his wares with a cry of, "Barely any caterpillars in 'em at all!" Whatever else you might say about the Lower Ring, at least its streets were teeming with life. More than could be said for the Fire Nation's capital, with its empty aseptic streets and high uniform walls.

It took a few more tea shops and a few more gold coins than he might have liked to get directions to Hama's place. When he found it, the sight wasn't terribly encouraging. The dingy walls looked like they were barely supporting the low-slung roof, and the sign saying "Healer No Questions No Answers" hinted that Hama's clientele was less than distinguished. Nonetheless, his uncle's carriage-driver had told him to seek her out specifically, and he was certainly not in a position either to ask questions or to give answers. He ducked past the beaded curtain that served her for a door and cleared his throat. "Hello?"

The room was surprisingly bright, lit with the ubiquitous crystals that gave Ba Sing Se its wealth and its light. The room was cramped—he had to keep his body bent to avoid hitting his head—but reassuringly neat, if cluttered. There was a table arranged with slightly frightening-looking tools which he imagined were her professional equipment. The couch which probably served as her examination table was covered in a floral quilt that looked distressingly handmade. But there was no sign of a human being anywhere in the space. Uncertain, he called again a little louder, "Hello? Is anyone here?" Receiving no response, he sighed and turned towards the door, intending to return later.

"Hello there, young man!" He jumped at the sound of her creaking voice and turned to see a wizened little thing with a huge smile and frizzy grey hair. She waddled over to him and took his arm, waving him towards the floral couch. "Now, how can I help you today?"

He sat and cleared his throat, proffering his hands and shrugging his shoulders a bit so that the sleeves fell back to reveal the bandages. "Oh, my," Hama breathed. "You poor thing! Now let's get these bandages off you and let old Hama take a look."

As the bandages were peeled away, Zuko winced. His fingers were red-brown and violet with bruises and dried blood, and he could even see a few fragments of bone sticking out of his fingers. Feeling the bile rise in his throat, he looked away quickly, focusing on the hypnotically awful floral shawl. Hama squinted and frowned, taking one of his ruined hands gently in her own. "Now, how did this happen, young man?"

"Farming accident. Horse spooked and I couldn't get out of the way," Zuko said, trying to keep his agitation at the lie out of his voice.

"I see, I see," she muttered, almost as if she wasn't listening. "Now I'm just going to get a better look. You shouldn't feel anything, but do let me know if you start to sense a twinge!" She closed her eyes and he felt a slight cooling sensation run through his fingers. "Hmm. Hmm-mm. Very bad indeed, young man, very bad indeed." She opened one eye. "You said a horse stomped all over you?"

"Just my hands," said Zuko, too quickly.

"Ri-ight. Well. It looks like your fingers are all broken in different places." Her gaze was suddenly sharp, but Zuko kept silent, hoping she would just drop it. But she opened her other eye and continued, "You see, if a _horse_ had done it, you'd get like a horseshoe pattern in the breaks, see? Your two middle fingers would have a break right here—" she waved a hand over the uppermost part of his digits— "while your outer two would have breaks lower down." She waved again, indicating the length of bone just above his knuckle.

Zuko tensed, and they stared at each other for a minute. Then the woman let out a rattling, shrieking cackle. "Bahaha! Don't you worry. Keep your secrets, young man. Now let's take a look at your scar." He opened his mouth to tell her to leave it alone, but the old woman was as strong as she was pushy, and she was already bending his head down close to her face so she could take a look, brushing his hair away with calloused fingers. "A-ah," she tutted. "I'm sorry, young man. Nothing I can do about your face." She let his head go and he straightened, eager to get away from the slightly musty smell she gave off. She grinned up at him and added, "Nor your hands, neither."

"What?" Zuko exclaimed. "You can't heal me? So I'll never—" he cut himself off and finished in his head, So I'll never bend again. He felt a pang of grief rip through his chest and his eyes stung with tears. Crippled. Useless. Again.

But Hama held his gaze, her smile thinning into a little smirk. "But I know someone who can." Before he could ask, she stood abruptly and said, "For now, you stay here. She stays busy in the daytime but I think I can get her to come tonight. I'll make you a nice cuppa. Jasmine or gunpowder green? And you're so _skinny_! I'll see if I can do us some porridge, shall I?"

#

After tea and dinner were shoved at him, he was shoved into a back room surprisingly bare of ornament or furniture, unlike Hama's exam room. There was already ratty old bedding on the cot, so the old woman ordered him to lie down and get some rest while she went to see about "my little friend, who I'm sure will be ever-so-eager to help a simple handsome young farm boy like yourself, hee-hee!" Had there been a tinge of irony in that comment? Zuko wasn't sure. But it seemed the woman was dead-set on helping him—disturbingly so, in fact—and he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he obediently lay on the bed, staring fixedly at the ceiling in an attempt not to notice the skittering he could hear under the floorboards.

He must've gotten so bored that he passed out, because the next thing he knew he was waking to the sound of a hand on the door. He fluttered his eyes shut again when he heard Hama's voice whispering, "Just through here."

Through slitted eyes he could just see two figures approach, rendered in thick blocks of light and shadow by the moon coming through the window above his head. The shorter one was obviously Hama, but the taller one… this must be her healer friend. She was wearing a long cloak with a hood that concealed the upper half of her face, aided by the darkness. But the cloak itself seemed almost blue-white in the moonlight. The fabric shone. Odd. Most people in the Lower Ring probably couldn't afford a cloak made from cloth nice enough to shine in low light.

They were almost by his bedside now, so he shut his eyes fully. He wanted to see if they'd be more honest about his prognosis if they thought he was asleep. He willed his muscles to relax.

"Oh, teacher. What a prize you've brought me," said a new voice. Light, feminine, almost musical. His nose filled with the scent of jasmine and he felt the heat of her body as she leaned over him. Expensive jasmine, he thought, because the scent was pure and sweet, not sharpened with alcohol as you got in cheaper perfumes. This healer was wealthy, which hopefully meant she was good. Better than the strange scrawny old woman, hopefully.

His hair was brushed away from his bad eye with fingers far softer and more careful than Hama's. The healer hummed thoughtfully and added, "He's very handsome, too." Zuko willed himself not to move or react, but he could feel the color rising in his cheeks. He almost felt the smirk in her voice as she added, "And awake, I see."

The game up, he let his eyes flick open. "How did you know, miss?" he asked dryly.

She snorted slightly. "Your blood pressure. I thought it was too high for someone asleep, but then it rose when I said you were handsome, so I figured you'd probably heard what I said."

Zuko looked away, embarrassed. "Right."

"Well, if we're done playing games, let's see your hands," she said lightly, and sat on the bed, reaching her own towards him. He moved carefully, placing both of his now-naked hands on top of her palms. Not quite so soft, he noticed. She had a callous athwart the meat of her palm. So she was not unused to holding tools… or blades.

He felt the same cooling sensation as he'd felt when Hama had examined him, but the flow was stronger, subtler, more directed somehow. "Mm- _hmm_ ," she said with finality. "It's quite bad, but I can fix it."

Hope lit his heart. "Really? All the way?"

She laughed like bells. "Yes, little farmer. You'll have full use of your hands when I'm done." Again a strange something in her voice, slanting across the word "farmer." Like she knew he wasn't one. But she didn't press the point. Her voice turned businesslike, losing that teasing lilt (he rather missed it), and she said, "I won't lie to you, it'll sting. The bones didn't set properly so we'll have to re-set them. Your hands will ache for a few days, but, I think, not worse than they have been already." A smile graced the full lips beneath the hood and he felt mesmerized by their luscious curve. "On three. One, two—"

She was right, it stung like the blazes, but he was too used to pain by now even to wince. That mouth turned again in a moue which he thought meant she was impressed. "Interesting. A stoic little lad, you are."

He grunted. "Not little."

Again that chiming laugh, white teeth gleaming in the moon. He thought her skin must be a little dark, because the color was so bright. "My apologies, farmer. You're a big, strong man, of course."

He could handle a bit of ragging if it meant he got to hear that sweet lilt of amusement in her voice. Agni, how could he be this attracted to a woman he could hardly see? True enough, the ample curves of her breasts were visible even through that cloak… it seemed to cling slightly to her, and he liked what he saw, but even so it wasn't much. Shouldn't be so much. He could feel the blood in his veins and his muscles were tense, aching for more of her touch. Had it really been so long since he'd last…? To distract himself, he asked gruffly, "So what do I owe you?"

She waved a finger in his face. "Nah-ah-ah! We're not done yet, hothead." She smirked. "Are you always so hasty with your lady friends? And I was just getting to like you, too. Such a shame."

Zuko's jaw actually dropped. She giggled and closed it for him with a playful tap to his chin, then said, "Give me your hand again. We need to clean you up a bit and see if everything's still working." She turned to Hama and said, "Hama? A basin, please." Her tone had been perfectly polite, but it was clearly an order. He imagined that the old witch wouldn't take it, but to his surprise, she murmured, "Yes, lady," and waddled out of the room.

The flirtatious healer turned back to him and said, "Now. Flex your fingers for me. Stop and tell me if it hurts."

He obeyed, and his fingers bent fully without much complaint. "Stings just a bit, but I think that's left over from the setting."

She nodded. "Good. Now stretch them out. Same thing." He obeyed almost without thinking, drunk on her voice. "All good? Wonderful. Now rotate your thumb. Excellent. Almost done." She laced her fingers through his. "Just need to test your grip. Roll our hands around in a circle. Right, like that, with your wrist." He lolled their wrists around, at first trying to feel out his muscles for himself, then relaxing into the motion, letting her control it. She turned his hand this way and that, and the test was seeming to last quite a bit longer than necessary, but he really didn't mind. Her fingers were short but strong, and in the glow of the moon he could see that they were covered in ink. Trying to seem like he was just resting his eyes, he focused on her brown fingers peeking through his pale ones. Along the top part of her pointer finger, someone had tattooed a fine image of a dagger. On her middle finger, he saw horizontal lines going at least down to her knuckle. With a slight shock, he realized that these were prison tattoos. Some of his rebels wore them. The horizontal lines represented prison terms; the dagger he wasn't sure about, but gangsters often wore symbols indicating their position within the organization. A dagger, though… so she was not _just_ a healer. He shivered slightly, frightened and, much to his chagrin, more than a little thrilled.

She was smirking at him, and damn if that didn't go straight to his cock. "Can… can you still feel my blood?" he asked softly, eyes trained on her lips.

"Why yes, I can," she replied, sounding not a little smug. "And I must say, it's very flattering. You're so… responsive."

Judging by the heat in his cheeks, his face must have been glowing. "Hmph. Are you always this hasty with your male friends?"

The woman laughed at his throwing her words back at him. "Oh, yes." Just then, Hama reentered the room with a dull glowing shape that was likely the requested basin. "Ah. Hama. Thank you." The healer took the basin and placed his hands just inside, so that his fingertips were brushing the metal. She opened the flask at her hip and guided the water out of it and onto his hands. She took his hands again, rubbing old blood off his fingertips and his palms.

Unable to help himself, he grinned and commented, "You know, miss, my hands are healed now. I could probably wash them myself."

She grinned back. "Mmm. I'm not so sure about that, young man. If anyone could find a way to injure himself while washing his hands, it'd be you."

Hama cackled again. "Oh, Katara, stop playing with the poor boy. You're getting him all worked up."

Katara tensed. She hadn't liked something in what the old woman had said. That she'd revealed her name, or that she'd berated her at all? Trying to appease her, Zuko cleared his throat and said, "I, ah, never told you _my_ name, Miss Katara. I'm Lee."

Her smile returned. "Ah. Lee. A pleasure to meet you." She waved the water back into her flask with a fluid motion. "One more thing, and then I'll let you sleep." She bent over him and he couldn't breathe for a long moment. Her fingertips carded gently through his hair, revealing the full extent of his scar. He could taste her sweet breath. She left her hand on his forehead for a few moments, and then mercifully (damn it) moved away from him. "There is nothing I can do for your scar, Lee. The healthy tissue has grown into the damaged, and at this point trying to separate it out in order to fix it would, I fear, do more harm than good." She grinned then and stroked his cheek once. "Good thing it suits you." She stood up then and said, "Hama, I wish to speak to you in the hall." She turned back to Zuko and smiled again. "And Lee, do be careful these next few days. The healing needs time to take. And I hope I see you again soon."

His throat was dry but his gaze was steady as he replied, "I hope to see you too, Katara."

He was drifting off, but he strained his ears, trying to hear the whispers from the hall. Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard Katara say, "…keep him here." And Hama replied, "Yes, my lady."

#

He drank mostly tea and ate mostly porridge, and listened to the old woman's incessant chatter. Fine by him. The less he talked, the less likely it was that he'd make a mistake like he'd made with the horse story. And the more time he had to think.

The mysterious Katara, he thought, had been winding him up. He understood that to some people, flirtation was a harmless pastime, but she'd really been laying it on thick. What he could see of her, the way she held herself, and her unabashed confidence indicated that she was a very attractive woman; surely someone like that couldn't possibly be so enchanted by a man with half a face. And then there was the matter of referring to him as a "prize"; the deference with which Hama treated her despite the fact that Katara had referred to her as "teacher." The expensive silks she wore, the pricey perfume, and most of all her obvious power… this was no village healer.

He was aware that there was an extensive criminal underworld in Ba Sing Se, and he knew from experience that in the rough-and-tumble business of smuggling, a healer's services were very valuable. The mysterious Katara was clearly wealthy, but she walked the nighttime streets of the Lower Ring unafraid. And she wore gang tattoos. So she had influence in the underworld, or at least a presence… perhaps she could even lead him to the Queen of Thieves.

He considered the possibility that he was just inventing excuses to see her again, but truly, the more he thought about it, the odder the encounter seemed. For example, both the waterbenders had to know that the scar on his face was old, yet both of them had checked it. Out of kindness? Both of them? He doubted it. He recalled his uncle's firebending lessons and remembered that one's chi was focused in the head. That other benders could sense your chi through contact with your forehead. Had all that petting been an excuse to suss him out?

It seemed increasingly likely. The old lady was sharper than she looked, but one of the lessons he'd learned from Iroh was that nobody was as discreet as they thought they were. What with Hama calling him "hothead" all the time and giggling to herself after, it wasn't hard to figure out. So they at least knew that he was a firebender. And surely his father had circulated wanted posters throughout his lands. Ba Sing Se, by virtue of its walls, was hardly "his," but it wasn't unlikely that one or even a few of the posters had made their way to the city. And, of course, there was the issue of his scar. That alone ensured he was far from inconspicuous.

He made a few attempts to direct Hama's flowing chatter with a few inane questions that might let him on to how much she—and Katara—knew about him. But the canny old bat just laughed and flowed around his inquiries like a river around a boulder.

By the time three days had passed, his hands had stopped stinging, and he was getting increasingly uneasy. He knew Katara's name, after all. Perhaps he could find her the same way he'd found Hama, and through her, the Queen. But Katara had ordered Hama to keep him here. He resolved to wait until night and sneak out while the old lady filled the little house with her sawblade snores.

He'd have been fine if he'd just waited a full hour, as he'd originally planned. But as usual impatience, the eternal bane of the exiled Crown Prince, would-be leader of the rebellion, and impulsive idiot Zuko, undid him. It was thirty minutes before his leg was twitching so badly he thought it might pop out of his hip joint, and he climbed out the window swiftly and silently—

But not swiftly or silently enough. Just as the windowsill was about to obscure the guestroom from his vision, his limbs froze. Panicking, he tried to move, and found that he couldn't. He looked up into the grim face of Hama. "Trying to run from a waterbender at full moon, Prince Zuko?" He tried to open his mouth to protest, yell, do something, _anything_ , but his lips wouldn't budge. Something else was in control now. "Very, very stupid mistake. One you will not make again, I think."

Against his will, his body climbed back up the wall. To his horror, he saw that Hama seemed to be… controlling his movements. With every jerk and twist of her arms, his limbs moved. He tried to scream for help, to bend, but he could not break her control. As soon as his feet touched the floor of the room, she walked him a few steps forward. She jerked her hand straight down and everything went black.

#

For fuck's sake, how many more prison cells was he going to wake up in before he died? For one horrible moment, he feared that his escape, Hama, Katara, all of Ba Sing Se had been a dream, that he was still in the Fire Nation—but he flexed his fingers. They were still whole, though his hands were bound. And besides, the light was wrong, the air did not smell like the air in the palace, and—ah. There was definitely a distinct lack of chunky, tattooed men with gold teeth in the palace dungeons, at least on the outside of the bars. He directed a full-strength baleful glare at the guard and demanded, "What happened and where am I?"

The man laughed a deep, rumbling laugh. "Just ye sit tight, princeling. The Queen's about ready to see ye now. She'll handle all yer gripes right quick." He grinned nastily. "At least, I hope she does." He took a big key from his belt and unlocked the door. Zuko tried to kick out, but the man was surprisingly light-footed. "Ah-ah-ah. Patience is yer friend, little firebender. The Queen demanded that I deliver ye in one piece, but it ain't gotta be a pretty one." He hauled Zuko to his feet and marched him directly in front of his body, making sure Zuko wouldn't be able to surprise him. What he _could_ do was walk as slowly as possible in front of the other man, so that he was liable to trip over his own feet. He grunted. "All right, princeling. You're a clever one, I'll grant ye that. Y'best thank yer Agni we're nearly there."

At last, he was shoved through a door, which opened onto a large room with a raised black marble throne surrounded by a shallow pool of water. Actually hall was a better word for it; there were people in bright silks and fine leather surrounding the throne, guards in mail, tattooed crooks, lovely women with bright fans and hairpins who, it occurred to him, were almost definitely prostitutes. The hall was full of noise but dropped into silence as Zuko was dragged to the center and forced to his knees directly in front of the throne.

Draped across the throne was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was barely older than he was, if at all; she looked eighteen, twenty at most. Her skin was a light brown shimmering with gold, her hair a slightly darker shade of the same color, loose except for the golden/gemmed little clips that were threaded through it, and it curled all the way down to her waist. The diaphanous blue and violet silks she wore barely covered her full breasts and left her stomach exposed but for a thin gold chain which led to her navel and curved jealously around her waist. Her hips were full too but her stomach was flat, her thighs and arms thick with muscle, and all that bare skin showed off a few nasty scars. The silk skirt she wore was more of a kilt, openings at the sides reaching all the way up to her prodigious hips. She was actually dripping gold; in addition to the belly chain, she wore bracelets, long earrings, a thick gold collar, and anklets. Her hands were covered in ink. But most striking of all was her icy blue gaze and the devilish smirk she wore as she stared right at him. Her lovely face was propped up against her hand, which rested on one arm of the black throne; she was lying on her side slightly, letting him see her whole body, legs carelessly tossed over the throne's other armrest.

"So," she said. Her voice was musical, light, playful, addictive. He couldn't be sure from just one word, but he was sure she'd smell of jasmine. She pushed herself easily off the throne and stood, the movement athletic, fluid. She walked through the pool, the silk of her skirts almost touching the water, and kept moving towards him until she stood directly in front of him. "My subjects have gifted me with a fire princeling for my birthday. How kind."

Now he was sure, beyond a shadow of a shadow of a doubt. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say her name. "K—"

Her eyes narrowed and she flicked a wrist. His tongue was suddenly heavy and cold in his mouth, very cold. Stunned, he realized she had actually _frozen_ his tongue in his mouth. Despite the heat of his body temperature, the ice cage did not melt. "Now, now. None of that. You are in my domain now, Prince Zuko. You will speak when spoken to." Another subtle movement of her fingers and she melted the ice. Zuko worked his tongue and jaw. "Is that understood?" she asked sweetly.

He looked her right in the eyes and answered, "Yes, Your Highness." Oh, she liked that. He could tell from the way her eyes narrowed and her lips quirked. She smiled fully and lightly chucked his chin. "Very good, little hothead."

He closed his eyes. Agni fucking preserve his miserable soul.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Warning: this chapter features everyone's favorite game, Pai Sho! I used neither the Nickelodeon rules nor the fan-developed ones; I just made up rules where necessary in order to serve the story. If you like it, don't forget to put a review on it ;)

II. Extortionists

"So," she continued, the playful light disappearing from her eyes, "a Crown Prince of the Fire Nation has infiltrated the great walls of Ba Sing Se."

He glared at her and corrected, " _Former_ Crown Prince."

She looked annoyed at his interruption but did not freeze his tongue again. "Very well. It remains to decide what exactly we should do with you." She smiled and bent close to his face, cupping his cheek. "Kill you? A good many in my court would appreciate the chance for retribution."

"A good many people of the Fire Nation would thank you for it," he snapped. His eyes drifted away from her for the first time since he'd entered the room. As would I.

"I see. Well, I understand you're wanted by your father's thugs. Perhaps we could turn you in for a ransom? Do a little extradition deal. I'm sure he'd be happy to have his prodigal son returned to him."

He could see she was toying with him, just as much as she had been when she flirted with him in Hama's guestroom, albeit in a much more unpleasant fashion. "My father did this to me," he growled, tossing his head to reveal his ruined face more clearly. "He watched as his guards broke my fingers, one by one, and then he sentenced me to death. Because I escaped, I'm sure he'll torture me properly this time." He looked right into her eyes and said, "Is any price he would pay you worth having that on your conscience?"

A mistake. He'd annoyed her. "What would you know about my _conscience_ , princeling? Or anyone's, for that matter. In Ba Sing Se, we say that Fire Nation soldiers have no souls. To kill one is no crime."

He took a breath and bowed before her, his nose practically touching the floor. "Forgive me, my Queen, any impertinence. I came here to ask for your protection as a refugee of the Fire Nation." He thought for a moment and added, "I am at your mercy."

He could hear the smile return to her voice as she said, "My mercy, eh? Well now. I'm sure many a woman would envy me such a position." She knelt before him, touching his shoulder to indicate that he should sit up again. She met his gaze, her face a strange mix of seriousness, eagerness, and excitement. "Now, as we say in this city, there's no such thing as a free cabbage. So what do you have to offer me in return for my protection, princeling?"

He licked his lips deliberately, watching how her eyes followed the movement of his tongue. "My body, if you want it," he murmured. Her eyebrows rose but he continued, "I doubt that you have another firebender among your court, and even if you do, I can almost guarantee that I am at least ten times stronger than he. I also have extensive weapons training, and I notice that you carry no weapon yourself. In return for your protection, I can offer my own." She nodded slightly, encouraging him to continue, so he obeyed. "In addition, my knowledge of the Fire Nation's tactics and resources is unmatched, by virtue of my… former position. I don't know how much business you do in my country, but I can give you safe routes and contacts if none, and safer routes and better contacts if you do business there already." She was smiling slightly, arms crossed over her chest. Hope in his heart, Zuko finished, "And, your majesty, it is clear that you are a powerful bender. But there are poisons and methods of severing a bender from her element, and I am sure your enemies know them all, though they don't have access to them currently. I can teach you how to get around or avoid these traps. And I can teach you how to use weapons with your bending. Make you an even more formidable fighter than you already are, so that none would dare challenge your rule."

Her lovely eyes were hooded and the lazy grin was back. "You are good at making promises, princeling. But how do I know you'll keep them?"

He held her gaze, schooling his face to mask the pang of offense at her questioning his skills. "Test me any way you like, majesty."

She grinned and turned towards her court, who had been murmuring and conferring with one another quietly as he spoke. "Well? What do you think of his offer, my court?" Zuko winced at the raucous chorus of boos, whistles, and cheers that filled the hall. He could not tell whether the jeers or the whoops were more dominant. But Katara seemed to be able to tell, because something in her face settled and she said, "A test, then. You will duel me. At midnight. You won't win, but if you can at least hold your own, I'll take you on as my bodyguard."

He nodded. "I accept your test, your highness."

She smirked and murmured, "Not your acceptance that matters, Zuko." She turned again to the court and boomed, "Is this acceptable?" The general revelry and cheers seemed to indicate that it was. "Good! Do you wanna watch me mop the floor with him?" The cheers, much to Zuko's chagrin, were far louder. "Good! Thirty gold pieces a ticket!" There was general laughter and exaggerated booing, and Katara laughed with her people. With relief, he began to feel the court's focus on him slipping, their attentions moving towards each other or to Katara, who had swiftly stepped over to Zuko's portly minder, grabbing his shirt and standing on tippy-toe to reach his ear. Zuko couldn't catch even a syllable of what she was saying over the hum of the court. At last she pulled away and slapped the man's back with a smile. "You never do let me down, Loh," she said, and Loh bowed. "And I never will, my Queen." Katara blew him a kiss, making the nearly seven-foot-tall man blush like a schoolboy, and skipped off toward another corner of the room to confer with still more mysterious personages.

Loh bent to Zuko and helped him to a standing position. "All right. None o' that playin' around this time. I know ye can walk just fine."

"I think I'll walk how I like if I'm being led back to a cell," Zuko bit out under his breath.

Loh cocked his head. "Who said ye were?" He smiled and bent closer. "Yer goin' to the Queen's chambers."

Zuko blinked. "Sorry, what?"

Loh rolled his eyes and grabbed Zuko by the elbow, dragging him effortlessly along. "She wanna speak to you in private. Just come along and step smart."

#

Katara's rooms smelled like jasmine. There was velvet absolutely everywhere, and an assortment of baubles decorated every surface. Amazingly, Loh actually untied his wrists when they arrived, possibly figuring that Zuko was smart enough to know that doing anything other than sitting quietly and waiting for the Queen of Thieves like a good little servant would result in his death. He noticed that she had a Pai Sho board flanked by two plush chairs. The game was already in progress; the tiles were clean and a little worn, not dusty, so she probably played a lot. Zuko sat on one of the chairs and inspected the tiles thoughtfully.

By the time he heard the doorknob turn, he'd already played some ten moves. A little cheeky of him, to mess up her game in order to play himself, but he got the sense that she would like it rather than being upset. And given how much he wanted to poke and pry through her things, and how dangerous an attempt to do so was likely to be, he needed a distraction. He didn't look up when she came in, pretending to be absorbed in the game. He heard her sigh and walk closer. She leaned over to look at the board, resting her hands on his shoulders. He could feel her breasts at his back and his nose was full of her scent—dammit, dammit, dammit. "Not bad. I think you should have put the water tile east, rather than north," she murmured. "And I also think you should know that I am easily bored by men who play hard to get."

He smiled. "You're wrong about the water tile. You've forgotten the white lotus, here. If I move it just _so_ —" he made the move— "I capture North Kingdom. My uncle says everyone always forgets the white lotus tile. He's right, too. And I _am_ hard to get, Queen Katara."

"Hmm," she said, and skirted the table to collapse elegantly into the chair opposite. For the first time, he got the sense that her guard was down. She was just looking at him, taking him in, not trying to create a reaction in him, only trying to observe what was there. "First, don't call me Katara outside these chambers. Second, how'd you recognize me? You only heard my voice once."

"I have a good memory," he said easily. "Speaking of which, your little dagger tattoo also tipped me off."

She raised a brow. "A lot of people have this particular tattoo."

He shrugged. "Well, given the data, I made an inference. And you gave me a lot more data than you think you did. Your shape, your walk, your voice, your bearing and manner, your tattoos, your skin color… it was enough." His uncle's words echoed again through his mind: no one is as discreet as they think they are.

He felt proud of his observational skills; he felt like a magician pulling out the tablecloth and leaving the silverware intact, but Katara did not seem impressed, exactly. She just smirked, steepling her fingers, and said, "My shape, eh?"

He gave a demure little smile. "Well. It is… distinctive."

Katara laughed. "What a flatterer you are."

Zuko bit his lip. He had to ask, even if it jeopardized his position. "So what was all that blustering and threatening me about?"

Katara blinked. "Blustering? I was serious, Zuko." Taking in his shocked expression, she rolled her eyes and continued, "What? Just because I think I'd enjoy bedding you doesn't mean I don't understand how dangerous you are. Even if you have no ill intentions toward me, keeping you here might very well bring the Fire Nation down on us again."

Zuko looked away. He honestly hadn't even thought of it, but she was right. Ba Sing Se had held out these past hundred years, and by the look of things could hold out a hundred more, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't cost something in terms of resources and logistics to keep him safe if she agreed to let him stay. Once again, he was risking others' lives without thinking.

"Zuko. It's fine." He looked up into her eyes and saw real concern there. "Listen. Whoever told you about me probably knows that I have, let's say, a soft spot for people who come from broken homes. I thought it was kinda presumptuous of you to appeal to my conscience when you don't know me, but… you were right, in a way. I _don't_ want to return you to Ozai, after what you said."

Without thinking, Zuko reached out and took her hand, squeezing it slightly before realizing what he was doing and letting it go. "Thank you," he said softly, sincerely.

She smiled at him, a real, genuine smile, free of innuendo or cleverness, and he thought his heart would stop. However it disappeared far too soon, her face resuming the more serious, thoughtful expression she wore before. "Doesn't mean you can definitely one-hundred-percent stay here, though. If you can't earn your keep, I can't support you." Seeing the terror and indignation creep onto his face again, she quickly added, "Oh, I won't run you out of Ba Sing Se. You can find a place in the city for sure. The question is just whether it's within my organization or not."

Zuko drummed his fingertips on the table thoughtfully. "Is there any other?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. There's a reason they call me the Queen. There are other gangs who technically have other leadership, but none of them dare defy me. I mean there's legitimate businesses where you could find work." She looked away, toying with a brown curl. "'Course, problem is, if the Fire Nation does come for your ass and you're just working in, like, a tea shop or whatever, they can't and won't protect you. I can." She looked back up at him. "Who told you to find me?"

He considered lying, but figured that since she already knew his identity, it wasn't worth the effort. "My uncle. He got me out of my father's tender care."

"I see. And your uncle is…?"

He was surprised for a moment that she didn't know but realized he shouldn't have been. "General Iroh. The Dragon of the West," he said.

"Hmm." Now she did seem impressed. "You know he laid siege to this city once?"

"Actually, yes. He was unsuccessful in his efforts. Devastatingly so. I imagine that is why he told me to come here."

She nodded slowly. "A wise choice."

She was toying with one of the tiles, lost in thought, so Zuko said, "Do you want to play a game?"

Her gaze snapped back to his. "Of course. What are the stakes?"

He remembered what she was Queen of and said, "I… don't usually gamble."

She laughed. "Oh, please, Zuko, I wouldn't play for your money. I imagine you have barely more than the clothes on your back, and it's not fun at that point." She shook her head and leaned forward eagerly, rubbing her hands, her bangles tinkling. "No. Let's play for information."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I've played a lot of Pai Sho, but never for information. Explain."

"It's the same, but each time it's your move, you get to ask a question, and I have to answer. Vice versa when it's my move. If you don't want to answer at all, you forfeit a piece." She shrugged. "Pretty self-explanatory."

He thought for a moment. "And… do we have to answer truthfully?"

She cocked her head at him. "Well now. Nobody's ever asked me that before." She tapped her chin in thought. At last she grinned and said, "No, but if you're gonna lie, at least make it interesting."

He nodded once, his expression serious as he began to set his pieces back into the starting layout. "I can work with that."

As they set up their respective sides of the board, he noticed with some apprehension that she was playing black, which meant that she moved first. When his eyes flicked over to her face he expected to see her smirk, but she was just focused, edging her little pieces around so that they fit exactly in the centers of the squares. He tried very hard not to find this endearing. When she was done, she looked up and clapped her hands. "All right! Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I think," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

"Good," she murmured back, her eyes already scanning the board. After just a few seconds she pushed an earth tile forward, a standard opening move. "Ass or breasts?"

She was grinning mischievously, but he'd expected it, so he leaned back into his seat, raising an eyebrow, and said, "Personality."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on."

He smiled slightly. "What? It's true. I don't want to fuck someone I feel indifferent about. There has to be some chemistry there. That's not to say that I don't notice those things, but if there's no passion, no intensity…" He shrugged. A new thought occurred and his smile turned wolfish. "Or maybe I could get it up for any girl who can talk dirty and seems open to getting spanked. My move." He pushed an air tile forward, endangering her earth tile. "Are you really attracted to me or do you just enjoy knowing I'm attracted to you?"

She rolled her eyes again and slumped back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest in pique. "Ugh. Really, Zuko? Are we in grade school? What, are you gonna ask me if I came next?" She looked away from him and he felt a little thrill of satisfaction. He'd definitely gotten to her.

He raised an eyebrow and said in a singsong voice, "You don't want to answer, you can always forfeit a tile."

She shifted uncomfortably and replied, "I thought I'd said as much earlier." She turned that snakelike little smirk on him again and added, "You know, when I said I'd enjoy bedding you?"

He shook his head. "Not the same thing. Maybe you just get off on having power over me." She balked, but he continued, "It's not an unreasonable assumption. You crawled your way to the top of the most formindable criminal organization in the biggest city in the world. That is not the behavior of someone who doesn't enjoy power quite a bit."

She stayed quiet for a moment, winding a curl around a finger, then finally sighed and said, "All right. Yes." She raised her gaze to his and his heart caught in his throat. "I am attracted to _you_ , Zuko, not just the idea of having the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation on his knees for me." Humor lit her eyes again. "Though that bit doesn't hurt your cause either."

"Who said I'd be the one on my knees?" he asked as she moved her earth tile out of danger, but Katara just grinned.

"Is that your next question? Because if so, the answer's easy. I did." It was his turn to roll his eyes. She didn't ask her question right away, letting her eyes rove over his face. At last she said, "Why were you exiled from the Fire Nation?"

He straightened and his eyebrows shot to his hairline. "You mean this whole time, you didn't know?"

Katara shrugged one shoulder. "How could I? There were various rumors, but we generally don't get too many from the Fire Nation in these parts, so there wasn't really a reliable source for the information."

He nodded and closed his eyes, collecting himself. He let out a gust of air and said, "I believe that the Fire Lord's first duty is to his people; my father believes that the Fire Lord's first and only duty is to himself. That difference of opinion, to put it delicately, became too much." He paused, sucked a breath in through his nose, and continued. "I… tried to lead a coup against my father's reign. We failed. My friends died. I should have died too, but my uncle broke me out of jail and arranged passage to the Earth Kingdom. That… is all I feel I can say about it, at present."

"I… I see." When he opened his eyes, she was still looking at him with that same pensive, impenetrable blue gaze. He was wondering if he'd have to be the one to break the silence when she finally said, "Perhaps you won't believe me, but I think my first duty is to my people, too." She smiled almost wistfully and continued, "Oh, those who say that crime pays aren't lying, and I sell drugs and sex to whomever wants 'em, pretty much. But my people follow me for a reason. I mend their wounds. I make sure their children go to school. If one of my dealers is breaking up with his girlfriend, I'm his shoulder to cry on, and if one of my smugglers can't pay the rent on his brig, I make up the difference." Her gaze sharpened again, pinning him to his chair. "I want you to know that, Zuko."

Unsure quite what she meant, he merely nodded and said, "I believe you." This seemed satisfactory to her. Her face cleared and they both turned their attentions back to the board. Within a few seconds he'd decided on his next move, but he didn't make it just yet, mulling over his next question. He wanted to know more about her, wanted to know _everything_ , but he was not sure where he wanted to take the mood of this little tête-a-tête next. If he kept things serious, he might learn more about her past and what made her tick, but then she might want to inquire into his own. Which would involve explaining his relationship with his father. A subject he did not particularly want to delve into with a near-stranger, despite the odd sense of intimacy he felt with her. Decided, he slid his air token forward to capture hers and asked, "Where do you most like to be touched?"

She smiled. "I like your choice of question better this time, princeling." He knew she was teasing him, but it was hard not to feel a keen little sting of pleasure at having done something she liked. "Are we talking in bed or in general?"

He made an expansive gesture. "Up to you."

"Well." She leaned forward, and he let his eyes drift across her chest, figuring that was what she wanted and that there was no point in pretending, given what he'd just asked. His gaze snapped back to her face, her mouth, when she shifted, raising a hand to the side of her neck. "I like to be kissed here," she murmured, holding eye contact, tracing the line of her throat with a finger. "And a bit of teeth never comes amiss. I like massages, just gentle, on my scalp or my back. I know you're indifferent to these—" she grinned and circled her nipples through the silk of her top just for a second, which made him bite his tongue so as not to gasp out loud— "so we'll skip them. I like it when my thighs are stroked. And I like what's between them licked, often." She spread her legs, so that he could see just the edge of her knee around the table, and ran her hand along her leg until it disappeared from his view.

Oh fuck, he really hadn't thought this through. He was practically panting, achingly hard and about ten seconds away from knocking the table aside and attacking her. And she could see how worked up he was, too, and looked very, incredibly smug about it. He tried to focus and ground out, "That… could be arranged."

She laughed and batted her eyelashes at him. "Oh, I'm sure it could." He watched her hands dip lower and—and move to capture his air tile. He opened his mouth to accuse her of cheating, but realized that her move had been perfectly legal. He had just been… otherwise occupied. She'd been watching his face change the whole time, her eyebrow raised as if daring him to comment. When it became clear with his huffing sigh that he wouldn't, she asked, "Can you breathe fire?"

"Yes," he said, trying and failing to keep his agitation at the sudden change of subject out of his voice. "But I have to meditate a lot first and then my mouth tastes like ash for days."

She sat up straighter, her face bright with curiosity. "Will you show me? I've been kind of working on a frost-breath, but I can't get the motion quite right, or maybe it's the chi flow, I'm not sure."

"Yes. _After_ we duel." He grinned at the disappointed slump of her shoulders and pushed a fire tile across the board. "How do you manage to avoid the Dai Li?"

She tapped her nose and smiled slightly. "Good question. A few different ways."

He looked askance at her, arms folded across his chest. "Oh, come on. You have to give me a _little_ more than that."

She sighed. "Oh, fine. We've got a good number of tricks up our sleeves and in our back pockets, but the real answer is that it's not really in their interest to exterminate the city's criminal element. Ba Sing Se maintains its independence from the Fire Nation by virtue of its walls, obviously, but at least as important—if not more so—is the fact that the city's rich. And it's rich because of us. If they really went after us, they'd have to find some other way to make money, and the only other real option is trade with the Fire Nation. And you can see the problems that would bring." Her smile was slanted with bitterness and humor. "See, you people are like termites. Let a few in and you burrow right into the foundation. And much as the Dai Li hate us, they know that if Ba Sing Se falls, they will too."

"And you do whatever you can to keep things that way," he said.

She blinked. "Of course. I'm good at what I do. Speaking of which." She double-jumped, taking a water tile and an earth tile. He cursed under his breath. She was beating him far too easily. "My uncle would be ashamed," he murmured.

Katara grinned. "Oh, don't feel bad. I'm sure you're just… distracted."

He glared at her and grumbled, "Just ask your questions."

"Of course," she purred. "And remember I get two now. First: have you ever beaten your uncle in Pai Sho?"

Zuko sighed and shook his head. "I don't think so. I've won a few games over the years, but I suspect the old codger was letting me win." He smiled wistfully, hit with a keen yearning to see Iroh again. Would he ever again see his surprisingly deft fingers whizzing among pots of tea leaves, carefully constructing the subtle flavor profile of his signature jasmine blend? Would he ever have a chance to lose at Pai Sho for the thousandth time, to see the old man wagging his finger and admonishing him, "A clever offense is the best defense, Zuko"? Would he ever hear him say "I love you" again?

He looked up at Katara, who was watching his face intently. There was something in her face, in the turn of her mouth, that he couldn't quite make sense of. Sadness? For him, or had he reminded her of her own? "You were close," she said finally.

He thought about saying, "is that your second question?" but decided he was better off letting it go. "Very."

She looked away. "I envy you." Then she looked back into his eyes, her expression hard. "The Fire Nation captured my village when I was ten years old. I saw my mother killed. I tried to defend her with waterbending, so they captured me instead of killing me, thinking I could be useful, I guess. As far as I know, they slaughtered everyone else."

It wasn't as though it was shocking to him. He always knew of his father's conquests, and he was aware early on of the human cost of Ozai's constant campaigns. And hell, if he was willing to kill his own people on a whim, he couldn't imagine what he permitted his soldiers to do to so-called "subject nations." Still, to think of little Katara, trying desperately to fight off a horde of Fire Nation soldiers with a few water droplets… horrible. Senseless.

A sudden memory flashed through his mind. A woman, crying and in chains, being dragged up the stairs. "One time when my sister was young, she got really sick," he said urgently.

Katara looked confused. "What? What does—"

"No, listen. She was dying. We… weren't close, but I was worried for her—" and worried for myself, for what would happen if I were the only heir, he added to himself— "so after Ozai visited her one day, I followed him. He went to the palace dungeons, to a special room I'd never seen before. I didn't follow him inside because he would've seen me, but I could see big metal cages through the crack in the door, and it was dark in there, really dark. When he came out, he was dragging this woman, about thirty. She was begging for her life, but he wasn't listening. He took her back up to Azula's room and ordered her to heal her. Said that if she didn't he would kill her and her loved ones. So she did, and Azula got better." He took a breath. "Afterwards, Ozai was complaining about how difficult the woman had been. He said he thought they should look for younger waterbenders, because they'd be easier to control. I think that's why they kept raiding Water Tribe villages. It wasn't as though you were ever really a threat to us. You were peaceful and small. But I think they needed healers, young healers, and that's why they took you." Katara's face was a mixture of confusion, rage, and grief. He realized that he had missed something important. He took her hand again and said, "And I'm sorry, Katara. I'm so, so sorry."

She took a breath. "I—appreciate it, Zuko." She laughed bitterly and added, "I'm not sure that knowing I would have been a slave if I hadn't escaped makes things better, but I appreciate your honesty."

"Right—right. I—I'm just… I'm still figuring out for myself what was happening around me."

"Right," she agreed slowly, her expression cryptic. "Well, if you stay around here, you'll figure it out. Like I said, we don't have many Fire Nation folks here, but we have enough who've encountered your soldiers." She stared at the board, but her gaze was empty. Most likely she was looking into her past.

"You still have one more question, technically," he said gently after a few moments.

She smiled at him. "So honest." She cocked her head at him, mirth in her eyes. "Can you cook?"

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Really? That's what you want to know, after all that?"

She shrugged. "Well, it'd be convenient. I try not to leave Ba Sing Se for too long, but sometimes I do venture deeper into the Earth Kingdom. If you can cook, I won't need to bring one with me when I travel. And I pay overtime."

"Fair enough," he said with a laugh. "I can't really. I can brew good tea, though. My uncle always said that no child raised in his house would leave without knowing how to brew a decent pot."

Katara laughed at that. "Well, all right. Go on and make your move. I'll have you in check in a minute," she said with a smirk.

"Are you sure about that?" He grinned and double-jumped.

She huffed and pouted. "Damn. I'd hoped you wouldn't see that."

"Well, I've got my head in the game now, so watch out." He cracked his knuckles exaggeratedly, performing for her, and she giggled obligingly. "First question: what does that dagger tattoo actually mean? And second, what do I win if I get you in check?"

She raised a brow and said, "Don't count your chickens, princeling. The dagger means I was an enforcer. That's how I made my way up the ranks. And if you get me in check…" she looked away for a moment, thinking. "If you get me in check, you win a favor. And that's regardless of whether you pass my little test later."

He laughed, surprised. "A favor? Now who's in middle school?"

She wagged a finger at him. "Hey, don't knock it. A favor from the Queen of Thieves is big money here. Besides," she said, looking at him seriously, "you might really need it one day."

"So the favor is… non-sexual," he asked, coloring slightly.

She snorted. "Yeah." Seeing his embarrassment, she batted her eyelashes at him and added, "Sexual anything with me is always at-will and gratis, princeling."

"Is it now," he murmured, smiling back at her. "That's good to hear."

She didn't respond, examining the board. Then she pushed her chrysanthemum tile forward a few spaces. "Did you think I was a prostitute?"

He blinked at her, taken aback. "I mean, no," he said. "I mean, you—you're pretty enough, I mean, you're beautiful really, and I'm sure—I mean—"

She let him splutter just long enough for it to be painful, then said, "I never sold pussy. At least, not my own. But my girls work hard, and I won't have anyone callin' 'em whores and the like. If you're gonna be my bodyguard, you have to treat them with respect. You gotta protect them, too."

"Of course," he said hurriedly. "I would never—I was raised to—"

She waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. It just gets on my nerves, right, 'cause a lot of men will pay for sex and spit on the ones selling it to 'em in the same breath, you know? And all my girls are of age, mind."

"I wouldn't have expected anything else," Zuko said honestly. "For a criminal, you're—you seem pretty… honorable."

Katara nodded sharply. "That's right. And don't think it's not hard." She licked her lips, shifting a bit, and added, "I was wondering if you did, cause of—" she gestured to her abdomen, taking in the jewelry, her lovely and barely-covered breasts, her bare midriff, and continued, "All this… stuff I wear, it's an image thing. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like it, but it's also important that my people see that I'm successful, right? They need to have faith in me. That's the other benefit of keeping things on the straight and narrow, relatively speaking." She looked back at him and finished, "I figure you know some of this stuff already, being a prince."

"Well. My education in how to be a good ruler was… flawed, to say the least," he replied. He moved his other air tile next to his earth tile, trying to trap her. "Speaking of. Your people seem to love you. Do they fear you as well?"

Katara sighed, shrugging helplessly. "Well, yes. They need to know I won't tolerate deception or disloyalty. They know what happens if they try it." Her face turned bitter and angry suddenly, almost as angry as when she had been talking about the Fire Nation's attack on her village. "Most of them, anyway." Interesting, Zuko thought. Had someone recently betrayed her? She moved the chrysanthemum tile, moving out of range of a jump. "What would you do if I gave you an order to do something you thought was wrong? Like, not just illegal. If you work for me, you _will_ do things that are against the law. But if I told you to do something you thought was morally wrong?"

"I wouldn't do it," Zuko said, without hesitation.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure? You know I can be very persuasive."

He raised an eyebrow of his own, his eyes sharp, and said, "And I can be very stubborn, your highness."

She nodded. "Good."

He surveyed the board and captured her fire tile. "One: why did you ask me that?"

She sighed. "It's important. I try my best, but I get angry. Very angry. It would be… useful, to have someone around who's strong enough to check that."

He nodded. "That sounds wise. And two…" he smiled at her. "Are you enjoying yourself, my Queen? Talking to me, I mean."

"Come on. What do you think?"

He steepled his fingers, leaning forward, and said, "I think that you like charming others, but you don't like admitting it when you're charmed. Besides, I am here to serve you. Is it wrong to want to know how I'm doing so far?"

She sighed. "No, no, of course not." She smiled slightly, her eyes hooded, giving him that seductive look that was becoming his favorite expression of hers disturbingly quickly. "Truth be told, Zuko," she said softly, "I haven't had this much fun with a man in a long time." He was staring at her, and she at him. His body felt hot, tense, full and he wanted to kiss her so much. He leaned forward—and suddenly she slid her earth tile across the board. "And—check."

"What?!" His eyes darted to the board. It was true: she had him in check. In one more move, she would capture his white lotus tile, and so capture the whole South Kingdom, his side of the board.

She leaned back and grinned at him, insufferably smug. "I'm never playing the game you think I'm playing, Zuko," she said. "Remember that."

"Believe me, I will," he grumbled. "I can't get out of it, so go ahead and take me."

"So forward! I _am_ a lady, Zuko. A Queen, actually," she chided, and took his white lotus.

"Yes, yes, very funny," he muttered, still annoyed. She laughed and stood up, coming around to his side of the board and leaning against the table so that she was facing him. And probably also so that I can get a really rather nice view of her body, he thought. Well. I'm not complaining.

"Oh come now, princeling, don't pout. You did pretty well, all things considered," she said teasingly, patting his shoulder. "I have some business to take care of, so you'll stay here for now. Try and use the time well; after all, we still have a duel to fight." She turned to leave, and he saw a massive blue dragon tattoo snaking up her back. Its magnificent head, framed with orange and red fur and beard, rested just at her shoulderblade, and the end of its tail curled right at the base of her spine. Its scales were a shimmering blue-green, and little whorls of riverwater played around its talons. Without thinking, he reached out to touch it, making her jump, her fingers curling into the starting position, ready to blast a wall of water at his chest. He jerked his hand away and said, "Sorry, sorry. Just—it's beautiful."

She relaxed slightly and smiled, turning her head around to look down at the tattoo. "You think so? Well, thank you. I drew it."

"You're a woman of many talents," he murmured, still tracing the dragon's path with his eyes.

Seeing where his attention was, she winked. "That's right. Now I really do have to go. Loh's outside if you need anything. Oh, and it goes without saying, but if you try to take anything I _will_ cut off your hand." And with that she walked out the door.

Zuko took a few deep breaths, trying to process all of the revelations that had come about as a result of their game. Despite all he'd been through in the space of a week, even less, Katara herself felt like the most destabilizing experience he'd had so far. She just had this way about her that made you feel safe, even intimate, but nonetheless subtly reminded you that the safety and the intimacy was in your head, not in hers. And the way she wielded her sexuality… Agni, she was going to kill him. He winced, remembering that this was, in fact, a literal possibility.

He climbed off the chair and onto the floor, resolving to meditate. If she fought at all like she played Pai Sho, he was going to have to bring his A game.

#

At fifteen to midnight, Loh led him to the gym. The walls were a bright red, the floors a lightly cushioned carpet. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, trying to get a feel for it. Katara was leaning on the wall opposite wearing the same silks as before, surrounded by a flock of girls who looked like tropical birds, all color and flash. Actually the room was filling up slowly, people ducking their heads around their taller compatriots to get a look at him. He was shirtless and barefoot, as he usually was when he trained, and he noted with some surprise that not all the looks he received were venomous. A few pairs of eyes lingered on his body in a way that was far more appreciative than suspicious, but unfortunately none of the gazes he met turned out to be Katara's clever blue one.

Figuring that the best move would be to act like no one was in the room apart from her and himself, he began to stretch, going through his basics. Iroh was always chiding him for being sloppy, trying to substitute power for form. Katara, from what he had seen so far, had excellent form in addition to power, so he was going to need to keep her on her toes as much as possible, because in a straight fight she'd probably annihilate him. And of course it was midnight, which meant her power was at its height, while his was on the wane.

He looked up to see her eyes on him at last. She made her excuses to her paradise birds and walked over, hips lazily swaying, catching his gaze. She stopped just in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, hothead? Feeling good?" she murmured.

He smiled easily. "Feeling great."

She shoved his chest playfully. "Good! I'll get this lot to shut up and we'll start." She turned to their audience and yelled, "Hey! Shut your traps!" Amazingly, silence fell over the room immediately. "Good," Katara said in a slightly quieter voice. "Now. I don't want you all psyching our princeling out, y'hear? So while I appreciate your loyalty, keep your cheering to a minimum, right?" There were a few boos and groans, but Katara ignored them. "We'll duel till first blood." She stepped back from him about ten feet. "If he wins—" more boos— "or if he can hold out at least fifteen minutes, he becomes one of us, and no argument. Good?" There were variations on the theme of yes. She turned to him and finished, "Bow to me and we'll begin."

Zuko closed his eyes and took one last breath. Then he opened his eyes and bowed. Katara followed his motion.

He jerked back to a standing position a little early and started with a flurry of kicks, gouts of flame following the path of his foot, trying to corner her. Katara raised an eyebrow and waited until he was close, then flicked open the flask at her hip and raised a wall of water in front of herself. He tried to move forward, but suddenly the wall curled and became a wave, pushing him back a few steps. He wondered briefly if he could evaporate it but decided he was better off not exhausting himself so early. Instead he rolled forward and shot a burst of flame at her from behind. Without even looking back she flicked the wall of water up to block it, then bent it into a whip that she lashed around his ankle, flicking it into the air—along with Zuko's body. She whipped him back and forth and tossed him at the wall opposite, but he broke his fall with a fireball and flung three more at her in quick succession as he landed. Katara smiled and lashed a water-whip forward, the water hissing as it extinguished his flames.

So he was going to have to get inventive. He dodged her next few attacks without even bending, using the time to think. As she prepared to send another wave at him, he shot a wave of heat at her hand, breaking her concentration. Pressing his advantage, he lashed at her heels with fire, trying to get her to stumble. But Katara just whirled and whirled again into a jump, sending a wave rushing right towards his knees that he only just managed to dodge. He leapt to his feet and raised a wall of fire around himself, using his whole body to push it forward towards Katara, calculating that she wouldn't have enough time to extinguish it.

He was right, but she didn't have to. Suddenly ice sheathed his arm, stopping his motion and losing him control of the magma wave, which burst harmlessly into air. He had no time to admire what a clever trick that was, opting instead to clap his other arm onto his frozen one to melt the ice. As it steamed off him, he rolled his body and sheathed his arm in flames, pushing them toward her with a yell. But again Katara outmaneuvered him, breaking the fire's trajectory with a quick burst of water, giving her enough time to jump out of the way. She bent her knees and raised her arms high, water moving to coat her body, and then lashed two thick whips of it at him. But he was ready this time, and he broke their momentum with two columns of flame.

She was measuring her energy, using short attacks so she didn't have to put much power behind them, he realized. So his best bet was to force her to waste her energy in a prolonged attack. He flung thick threads of magma at her and she jumped aside, ending up a few inches from the crowd. He kept the pressure up, flicking tongues of flame at her feet. But she was not so easily distracted. With a fluid wave of her hand she encircled herself with a wall of water as high as the ceiling, then turned so fast he could barely see it and sent the wave curling to meet him. He flung up a fire shield just in time, but the force of the water still made him lose his footing, and he dropped to his knees. She was readying a water-whip, so he shot two bright trails of fire at her hands, and she had to lash it in front of herself instead of at him. He flipped back to a standing position and stamped his foot, summoning another magma wall, and flung it right at her as soon as he felt it had enough power behind it to hold its shape. But as it hurtled forward he kept bending, feeding the blast, so that a short, sharp burst of water wouldn't be enough to defend her. And this time his gambit worked—she summoned a column of water to deflect, but wasn't able either to extinguish his fire or to dodge, since doing so would mean losing the focus needed to maintain her water-column.

Now she was sweating, having to put her whole body into forcing him back. But just when he thought he had her, she grunted and suddenly drew all the water back to herself, shielding herself in a ball of water, and launched herself into the air using the water's force. As she came down behind him, she knocked him over with a wave, and just as he was about to get up, tripped him up with a second following quick behind the first. She shaped the second wave into an ice cage, but he managed to steam it off, and now she was within kicking range, so he growled and kicked a fireball at her feet. She didn't stumble, but suddenly he was on his feet and in her face, grabbing at her wrists. She managed to hold him off with a few bursts of water, but she wasn't expecting him to breathe fire in her face. She drew up a wall of ice to protect herself, but there wasn't enough space and now she lost her footing, wobbling a few steps backward. Flinging his hand upwards, he formed two columns of flame between her arms and her body, so that if she moved she would almost certainly burn herself.

She didn't move for a few moments, so he smirked at her and asked, "Draw?"

Katara glared back and hissed, "Not on your life," then jerked her hands straight up. A geyser of water suddenly burst right under his feet, knocking him over and causing his flame-cage to disintegrate. This time water, not ice, encased his body, bubbling over his head. Suddenly unable to breathe, he held one hand over his mouth and nose. He had maybe a minute before he would run out of breath. In a burst of inspiration he closed his eyes, focused as best he could while suspended in midair and drowning, and breathed a sharp burst of fire, evaporating the column. Unfortunately, he was so relieved he could breathe again that he failed to break his fall, landing hard on his ass with a yelp.

Whirling a ball of water between her hands, Katara grinned at him and said, "I think that counts as first blood, no? Surely _something_ got bruised just then."

"Ha, ha," grunted Zuko, and evaporated the water ball with a jerk of his hand. Jumping to his feet, he sent three successive walls of fire rushing towards her, then called a gust of flame forward to trip her from behind. She rolled and dodged, but he thought he could smell just a tinge of burning hair. From behind him, he heard Loh call, "Just one minute left!" With a surge of adrenaline he sent an enormous fireball gushing toward Katara.

To his shock, she actually encased the whole fireball in ice, then sent it rolling back towards him. As it came shooting at him the ice melted and the fire suffocated, so the ball was now a wave of superheated vapor hot enough to actually burn him if he didn't block it. But the momentum was too strong now; if he dodged, it would surge right into the crowd. So Zuko shut his eyes and forced all of his body, all of his energy, into a wave of flame that would push the vapor back towards Katara.

Against all his expectations, it worked. The vapor was now surging back toward Katara, who cooled it into ice with a whirling kick, letting it fall harmlessly to the ground. Or so he thought. Suddenly with another flick of her wrist the ice was floating in midair, then shooting straight for him, one of them aimed straight toward his throat. After the magma wave he was spent, and there wasn't time to dodge. Zuko closed his eyes and waited for the pain to come, and—

"Time!" shouted Loh. "Well done, little firebender, well done indeed," he added. When Zuko risked opening one eye, he saw that the shards of ice were hanging millimeters from his face, Katara holding them still with one hand. With an easy gesture, she melted them back into water again, the liquid splashing as it hit the floor of the gym.

"Quite right, Loh. Congratulations, Prince Zuko. I'd say you have well and truly passed my test," she said, sounding genuinely pleased.

But Zuko was not. Amid the various cheers, jeers, and other reactions of the crowd, he marched right up to her and hissed, "What was that with the ice at the end? You could've killed me, you realize!"

Katara just shrugged. "No, I wouldn't have. If you hadn't been lucky with the timing, I would have redirected them."

He stared at her in disbelief. "You're not seriously telling me you could have diverted something that had that much momentum already?"

Katara put a hand on her hip, giving him an old-fashioned Look, the kind that didn't ask if you were stupid but rather told you that you were, and that you must've had a dodo bird somewhere in your ancestry as well. "You saw me fight, Zuko."

He just shook his head. "Agni, woman. You really are something else."

"Mm-hmm," she trilled, and put a hand on his shoulder, shoving him down. "Now get on your knees."

He complied, but couldn't resist a sarcastic, "What, in front of everyone?"

She put a finger to his lips. "Shh. Stop stropping." Eyes bright with mischief, he closed his mouth against her finger in a light kiss. She glared down at him and moved her hand to his shoulder, then turned to her court and called, "Everyone! Yaps shut, we're knighting Prince Zuko now!"

"Knighting?" he murmured.

"Shut _up_ , I'll explain in a second," she whispered back. Raising her voice, she added, "Sake on the house if you all will just _quiet down_ for five goddamn minutes!"

To Zuko's utter lack of surprise, this worked. Silence fell, and Katara took a breath. "Prince Zuko," she proclaimed, looking down at him. "You have passed my test. As promised, subject to your taking the oath, you will be named Hand of the Queen, my bodyguard, my protector, and ultimate executor of my will. Do you swear to obey me in all things, subject to the caveats we discussed, to enforce my will, and to protect me with your life?"

Smiling softly at her, he put his hand over his heart. "I do so swear."

She nodded, and said, "Then I name you Zuko," she tapped his left shoulder, "Hand," she tapped his right, "of the Queen of Thieves," she finished, tapping his forehead. Then she turned to her court and yelled, "So you all be nice to him, ya hear!"

A cheer went up, probably more because of the promised free sake than any joy at his joining their number. Nonetheless, as Katara helped him to his feet with a smile, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had not failed. He would be, at least for now, safe.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: There shall be alcohol-based hijinks in the beginning of this chapter, and various mentions of sex, drugs, and violence throughout, though very mild and non-graphic ones. Enjoy!

III. Hustlers

As her people reveled and caroused around her, the air in her throne room reeking of alcohol and opium, Katara was mainly just babysitting the glass of sake Loh had kindly poured for her at the beginning of the night and listening to her spies' reports. Almost all bad news. The Dai Li were getting on her girls' backs again and there were rumors that they had made contact with the Fire Nation for unknown reasons; the price of opium poppy was rising and her smaller dealers were complaining that they were having trouble keeping up, wanted some kind of compensation/benefit/discount so they could compete; and her smugglers who imported goods from the Northern Water Tribe complained that the seas were getting more dangerous, that the Fire Nation was upping their patrols of the waters, and that therefore they wanted to be paid more for smaller amounts of the same goods. Tui and La, so much to do! She had quite possibly overindulged herself in Zuko's company.

Speaking of her newest servant, the Fire Prince seemed to be keeping mostly to himself, so Katara had told Sujin to go and talk to him so he wouldn't be lonely. Sujin was one of her most successful ladies, chiefly because you could generally sit her next to a lump of coal and be assured that when you returned a half-hour later, she'd have its entire life story as well as the names of its aunt's second cousin's children memorized. However, this appeared to have been a mistake. The Zuko who had been so open and funny with Katara had apparently disappeared, and Sujin excused herself within twenty minutes, returning to Katara with a shrug and an, "I think he wants to be alone." Katara sighed and looked over at Zuko, who was nursing what she thought was his third drink and looking around the room with a watchful, vaguely sour expression half-visible over the rim of his ceramic mug. Sujin followed her gaze and said, a touch less cheerfully than her usual sunflowers-and-chrysanthemums tone, "Yup, he's a moody one, my lady." Seeing Katara's slight dismay, she added, "I mean, that's all right! It's worse things to be in this world than moody, for sure. And maybe that's what you want in a bodyguard, all taciturn and such." Katara smiled with genuine affection and curled an arm over Sujin's shoulders, kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you, love," she said kindly. "I appreciate your efforts. Now go and find someone fun to enjoy your night with, hmm?" Sujin grinned and bowed. With a murmured, "thank you, lady," she skipped off.

It was two in the morning and she still had some cargos to sign off on, letters to answer, and as one of the few mostly-sober people at the gathering, she also had to see that people who were too drunk got cut off and seen home. As she and Loh dragged an opium-addled smuggler named Zheng to one of the guestrooms, she hissed, "What on earth is happening here, Loh? I thought we knew how to hold our goddamn liquor!"

The big man just shrugged and replied, "We like to party. What's the point of being outlaws if we don't know how to have fun?"

Katara just sighed and wove her hands in a quick circle to create a cushion of water to float Zheng through the rest of the hallway.

She had just settled back into writing her third letter of the evening when Zuko staggered over on half-jellified legs. She stared at him with raised brows, but he didn't seem to notice, his strange, dreamy smile failing to melt in the face of her irritation. "Your highness," he murmured. At some point, she thought, she was going to need to tell him that nobody addressed her as "your highness," usually just "my lady" or "mistress," but she was enjoying it, so she wasn't going to bother quite yet. He hiccupped and continued, "Can I—a word in your—I wanna talk to you."

Katara rubbed her temples and said in the gentlest voice she could manage, "Of course, Zuko. What can I do for you?"

He leaned in, smelling like way more than three drinks' worth of sake. He put his lips to her ear and murmured, "You're so beautiful, Katara. Agni, so lovely, so clever, so _smart_." He sounded so earnest, his voice thick and deep with longing, that she actually blushed. To her shock, he actually kind of nipped the edge of her ear before pulling away from her enough to see her face and added, "And you've been ignoring me all night."

Katara took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm her racing blood. He was still shirtless and his body was so warm, his lips soft on her ear. And the sheer _feeling_ in his voice, that teasing little bite… okay, calm the fuck down, Katara, she told herself. When she felt a little more in control she replied, "I haven't been ignoring you. I have been busy." She looked up into his intense, unfocused golden eyes and added, "And so have you, I see. When was the last time you had alcohol, Zuko? Before tonight, I mean."

He shrugged easily and murmured, "Dunno. Probably Uncle Iroh let me have a bit of plum wine for my last birthday?"

Katara couldn't help laughing and commenting to herself, "My goodness, we're corrupting you already!"

Zuko laughed too, but then he leaned in again, his breath hot on her neck. For half a second she thought he was going to throw up on her, but what he did instead was, in a way, even more painful. "Katara," he whispered, his voice rasping slightly, "I really, _really_ wanna fuck you, but I think I'm too drunk."

It wasn't as though it was a surprise that he wanted to fuck her, but hearing him say it out loud just made her ache. How could she get so wet from a man telling her he _wasn't_ going to fuck her? It very much did not help that Zuko hadn't moved away, opting instead to drop little kisses along her neck, muttering, "I'm sorry—my Queen—that I can't—fuck you so hard—make you scream—"

"Zuko," she half-hissed, half-moaned, "Zuko, please _stop_ that."

He leaned back again, looking bewildered, his hair slightly mussed, and she wished it didn't look so cute. "What? You don't like it?"

Katara smiled regretfully and rubbed his shoulder. "I like it a lot, but I'm _so_ busy and you are _very_ drunk. And we're in public, though I don't think too many people are paying a lot of attention."

Zuko nodded slowly, his gaze elsewhere, and she wasn't sure whether he'd taken in anything she'd said at all. Suddenly, his head drooped, and he whined, "I'm sleepy."

Katara tried to stifle a giggle as she said, "Oh, I know you are, my brave Hand. Tell you what, just sit down right here, in front of me." Zuko nodded dumbly and obeyed, leaning against one of the armrests of her black marble throne, his hot hand rubbing mindlessly up and down her right calf. Katara kind of tilted his head so that it was resting on her thigh rather than the hard marble of the throne and muttered, "Now take a nap and I'll get you into a real bed as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay," he replied with a yawn, closing his eyes. To help him on, she began to card her fingers through his thick, surprisingly soft black hair. After a while, his hand stilled, and his bloodflow slowed, indicating that he'd actually managed to fall asleep in such an awkward position. Well, he'd slept in a few prison cells by now, so she supposed that drowsing against the knee of the Queen of Thieves wasn't the most miserable position he'd had to get his rest in.

She kept threading her fingers through his hair as she wrote, losing track of the fact that she was even doing it until Fei, another of her prostitutes and one of her most astute advisers, came up to her and whispered, "My lady. Might I have a word with you?"

Fei definitely had her lecture face on, and Katara wasn't in the mood, but she ignored the other woman's advice at her peril, so she said, "Go ahead."

Fei's eyes darted toward Zuko. "In private, I mean."

Katara waved a hand. "He's asleep. Better not to wake him, no?" It was a weak excuse, but she didn't quite want to lose his warmth at her side. Unfortunately, she was sure that was what Fei wanted to talk about. Well, might as well let her get it over with. "Go on," she said with a smile.

Fei took a deep breath. "It's just—my lady. I know you like your men very… passionate. But associating with such characters brings a great deal of risk along with it. And—"

"Fei," Katara sighed, "do you really have so little faith in me? Do you truly think that I haven't thought through the risks of having him here?"

Fei rolled her eyes and said, "It's not having him here I'm worried about. I just—I worry for you, Katara." Katara winced. That was a bad sign, right there. Fei was one of the few members of her court who actually knew her real name, and she only used it when she was _especially_ upset about something. "I don't want this to be another Jet situation."

Katara looked up at Fei's concerned expression and took her friend's hand. "I know, Fei. And I have no reason to believe that this won't turn out the same way except my instincts and my impressions of his character so far. But I assure you, I _will_ be more careful this time. If I have any reason to believe he is dangerous or disloyal, I will not hesitate to act."

Fei shook her head. "Again, my Queen, I fear you misunderstand me. I know you will always serve your people first. But your reign is so secure right now. I would hate to see you destabilized by poor romantic choices."

Despite Fei's bluntness, Katara merely raised an eyebrow and said, "Do you think he is a 'poor romantic choice,' then?"

Fei bowed, her expression uncertain. "He is… strong, and seems clever enough. But is 'strong and clever enough' worth risking your reputation and perhaps your throne? Times are heating up and we're all feeling it, lady. I think that's why everyone was so rowdy tonight. We're all tense. Waiting for the first shoe to drop." Fei caught her eyes and finished, "Do not let it drop on your head, lady. That would be a tragedy. For all of us."

Katara sighed, rubbed her eyes, and nodded slowly. "I… I will think on your words, Fei. I thank you for your counsel, as always." Fei nodded, bowed, and excused herself to retire for the night.

Katara looked down at Zuko searchingly, stroking his scalp lightly as he dozed. It's clear it'll be amazing if we fuck, she thought. But who said anything about romance? We have chemistry, and he's hard not to like, especially for a Fire Nation prince, but that doesn't mean anything much. But… I know Fei is right. I haven't decided quite what I want from him yet, and that's dangerous. I wanted Jet to figure out how to be my adviser _and_ my lover, and it turned out he was suited to neither. So whatever I do with Zuko, I'll need to be sure I've bloody well thought it through first.

But, she decided, I'm not going to worry about that right now. Right now, I am going to finish this letter and enjoy the fact that I have a very handsome, powerful man who—she looked down, and confirmed her suspicion—who, yes, is drooling a little on my silk—to warm… well, my thigh, kind of. She sighed, bent his spit off her silk with a complicated little gesture, wiped his mouth a bit with a handkerchief, and went back to work.

#

His head was aching like hell, but the rest of his body wasn't, which was… different, at least. He opened his eyes. He was definitely in Katara's room, and he was sure about this because Katara herself was curled in a chair across from the bed, her hair kind of mussed, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, working at something he couldn't see with furious movements. Her eyes darted up to his, and before he could even open his mouth, she said, "No, we didn't. You'd remember. And in any case, I didn't sleep at all last night, let alone sleep _with_ anyone. I put you in here because all the other guest rooms were full. If you want a shower, there are clean towels in the bathroom which is just on your left." Her tone was terse and her eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion.

Zuko pressed his forearms against the lovely soft mattress, shoving himself into a sitting position. "I'm sorry to hear you didn't sleep. What were you up doing? And—are you— _knitting_?"

She glared at him with Agni's own fire and replied, coldly and deliberately, "Yes. It's a hobby. Got something to say about it?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, no."

"Have I covered everything, then?" she asked in the same tense voice.

Zuko smiled at her and said, "Yes, just two things. One, I think changing your clothes might help. When I've had a long night it helps me feel more human. Two, do you want tea?"

Katara stared at him for a moment, then relaxed, just slightly. She sighed and ran a hand through her tangled curls. "I was just up doing busywork, mostly. Signing off on cargos and payments, writing letters, hearing reports. Stuff I hadn't gotten to. And honestly, yes, I would love some." She took a hand away from her knitting to whirl it in a circle and then she jerked it towards herself, causing water from a basin on the dresser to lash out in a whip, opening the top drawer, before retreating back to its original position. "There's an okay selection of tea leaves in there. And uh, kettle." She looked around and used another water-whip to drop the kettle onto the dresser with a thunk. She sent him a little grin and said, "I'll leave the boiling water to you."

He hauled himself out of her bed and ambled over to the open drawer. As he started on the tea, she suddenly said, "Are you hungover?"

He snorted. "What do you think? I'm not sure I've _ever_ had that much alcohol."

"Why'd you drink so much?"

Zuko shrugged and replied, "I didn't know I _was_." That was not strictly true, but he wasn't about to admit that he stopped paying attention to how much he was imbibing because he was feeling mopey about the fact that she hadn't come over and talked to him all night. Suddenly he remembered that he had taken matters into his own hands. The color rose in his cheeks as he remembered what he'd said, her lovely gasp when he nipped her ear, the taste of her skin... He cleared his throat and continued, "It was the usual story. I wasn't feeling it, so I drank more, then I still wasn't feeling it, so I drank more, and then I stood up, and…" He held his hand straight, then let it fall to a horizontal position, acting out his trajectory for her.

Katara laughed. "Right."

There was silence for a few more moments, during which he sniffed a few different pots of leaves. Finding none of them so far quite satisfactory, he said, "So, no judgment, but you have time to knit, but not to sleep?"

"You can't just say no judgment and then say a judgy thing," Katara said sourly. "I'm knitting because I'm trying to stop myself from passing out. If I sleep now I will not wake up for the next twelve hours."

Finally finding some black tea he liked for her, as well as a suitable rooibos, he clicked his tongue. "That really sucks, Katara." Another thought occurred and he frowned as he started placing the leaves in the pot. "Do you not have a secretary?"

"Secretary?"

"Yeah, you know. Someone to go through and organize your documents, fill out the unimportant bits, so you can just go through and sign them instead of reading through them cover to cover. Like if your smugglers only and always carry about the same cargo, do you really need to read through every single order?"

But Katara was already shaking her head. "Thing is, yes. The prices of goods change a lot, and I think that if they didn't know I was looking over every form and dotting every T, crossing every I, a lot more of 'em'd stiff me."

Zuko gave her a skeptical look. "Maybe," he replied, "But you'd sleep a full eight hours. Also, nothing preventing you from double-checking after someone else has already done the busywork." He turned toward her and held up the kettle. "Water, please."

She smiled slightly and flicked a hand, pouring just enough water into the kettle. In turn, Zuko placed the lid on it and closed his eyes, focusing his chi, and slowly brought it to a boil. He took a cup out of the tea drawer and poured for her. He handed her the cup and she inhaled the steam deeply, murmuring, "Smells good. Thank you." She took a sip and smiled up at him, saying, "Mm! I like it!"

Zuko smiled back, feeling quite proud of himself, and replied, "Good. I'm glad."

They sat in silence for a while as they drank, Zuko draped over the chair across from her, Katara perched slightly more wakefully than before on her own chair. When Katara finished her cup, she put it on one of the many side tables that were strewn about her room and sighed, "Thank you."

Zuko bowed his head a little and smirked. "I live to serve."

Katara cocked her head and stared at him for a few moments, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling that you will only say that sort of thing to me when you mean it least?" His stomach tightened when her lovely little smile stretched to a full grin and she asked, "And why were you mean to Sujin? She's a lovely girl, you know."

"I wasn't _mean_ ," Zuko protested. "And she seemed very nice. I just… wasn't in a talkative mood. That happens with me, a lot."

Katara folded her arms over her chest, still grinning. "Really? I never would have guessed."

Zuko narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms too. Well, if she was going to play games, he could play along. "Well. Some people are good at getting a… reaction… out of me."

"Because I'm provocative?" Katara asked in an almost wheedling tone, tossing her hair and batting her eyes at him exaggeratedly.

Zuko rolled his and replied tartly, "I wouldn't use that word. I think 'provoking' is more accurate."

Katara chuckled, leaning her face on her palm as she looked at him, and said, "Oh, you're so _fun_ when you're sour."

Zuko sighed and rose from his seat. "If you're done making fun of me, I would like a shower. Also, you haven't told me if I'm actually doing anything for you today besides making you tea."

Katara waved a hand at him and said, "I'll brief you after you shower. Let you enjoy your last few moments as a civilian."

He nodded at her, but didn't quite leave yet, watching her take up her knitting again. Her hands were trembling a little, and he could see how tired she was. He debated trying to tell her to get some sleep, that someone else could show him what he needed to do, but figured she would just deflect or get annoyed. Though he knew firsthand how much power was packed into her small frame, he couldn't help feeling protective. Which would probably annoy her no end, if he ever expressed it, he thought, smiling a little.

Her eyes snapped up to his and she said, "Well? I thought you were showering." A sultry smile slipped across her features as she added, "Unless you're waiting for me…?"

He thought he would be used to it by now, but her boldness still made it hard to breathe. The color rose in his cheeks and he stood there for way too long, his mouth hanging open and his stomach tightening at the onslaught of images of water sliding over her lovely skin… her face, her breasts, her thighs, he imagined bending down to lick the water droplets off her…

Katara gave him a slightly pitying look and said, "Oh, don't look like that, I was just teasing you."

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "I know." He turned and after a false start that led him into a closet, he found the bathroom, ignoring Katara's giggles.

As he felt the water begin to thrum on his skin, his unsaid thought lingered in his brain: That is what makes it all so frustrating.

#

Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was, and pleasantly so, to find that Katara had laid out the clothes he'd arrived in Ba Sing Se in on the bed. They were clean, and she was gone, but she'd left a note on his shirt: _You take way too long to shower. Is running water free in the Fire Nation? Called away; stay here and I'll fetch you soon._ He chuckled at her chickenscratch handwriting and her little dig. He wished for the thousandth time that she weren't so easy to like.

Given that he'd already slept in it last night, he felt no misgivings about lying in her bed once more as he waited. True, it wouldn't leave a terribly professional impression on Katara, seeing her new bodyguard lounging around in her sheets, but he figured it might be prudent to rest now, since he still had no idea what she had planned for him. Bored, and still feeling too hungover to bother with another game of Pai Sho versus himself, he began composing a letter to Iroh in his head.

 _Dear Uncle, I am safe. I miss you. The Queen of Thieves is terrifying and beautiful and I can't tell how much she really likes me, but she's given me a job in any case. She plays a mean game of Pai Sho and she is the shrewdest politician I have ever met; I can't imagine those two facts are unrelated. Be safe, Uncle. I love you._

He sighed and rubbed his temples. Even if he were able to get a letter to Iroh, he could never risk revealing that much, in case Ozai found it. And honestly it wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility that Ozai was having Iroh's mail searched. He needed to get some kind of communiqué to Iroh, just to let him know that he was safe, but he'd have to think of a code. He launched himself off the bed, now too anxious to enjoy even a mattress of that quality, and started to pace, barely paying attention to his surroundings. His eyes flitted between the dressers, the velvet drapery on the bed, the bathroom door, the Pai Sho board. Dressers, drapery, door, board; door, board, dressers, drapery, board. Board. Slowly, an idea taking shape, he walked over to the board and searched for the white lotus among the black tiles. Just as he pocketed it, he heard a hand on the doorknob and Katara walked briskly into the room. He turned around quickly, guiltily, but she didn't seem to notice his sheepish expression, launching right into speech with, "Tui and La, Zuko, do you know you took an hour in there? And I don't think you were even jacking it! Amazing, truly."

He just waited for her to realize what she had said. When she just stood there, arms akimbo, awaiting his response, he drawled, "How'd you know I wasn't? Did you listen at the door?"

To his surprise and unrelenting glee, an actual blush spread across her cheeks, and she put her face in her hands to hide it. "Oh. Uh, Zuko, I'm—look, I'm really tired, and I run my mouth when I'm tired, all right?"

He smirked and gently pulled her hands away from her face. "Of course. Red looks good on you, by the way," he said, playfully stroking her cheek.

She glared, but she didn't pull away from his touch. "I am still the queen of you," she said, clearly trying to keep her tone sharp, her voice still too raspy and blurry with too little sleep to manage it.

"Yes. A very sleepy and stressed-out queen. What happened?" he asked, leading her to a chair.

She slumped on it gratefully and muttered, "Some of our ships got attacked. Not unheard of, but usually doesn't happen so close to the city. Unmarked ships but they were big steamers, so probably—"

"Probably Fire Nation," he finished, dread in his stomach.

Her gaze sharpened again as she looked at him. "Don't think they were after you. I think something much worse is probably happening, no offense." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back against her chair. "They retreated when we got close to the docks. Which either means that coincidentally we defeated them right as we approached or that whoever they were did not want to risk being recognized by all and sundry at the pier. So I think the Dai Li did some kinda deal, got ships from the Fire Nation. In exchange for what? I don't know."

"Did they try to destroy or capture the ships?" Zuko asked, his mind racing.

"Capture."

"What was the cargo?"

Katara opened one eye to look at him and answered, "Drugs."

"Were they after the dealers or the product, do you think?"

Katara tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I'm… not sure. The full report hasn't come in yet." She gave a huge yawn and moaned, "Fuck, I _really_ can't do this on no sleep!"

Zuko sighed and asked, "What can I do to help?"

Katara groaned again and rubbed at her eyes. "Fuck. This is so bad—look, just go get Hama and make sure she gets to the docks, and tell Loh to get Taiji and Jiyu to come take a look at the ships." As she curled up in the chair, already half asleep, she wagged a finger at him and admonished, "And wake me up in two hours or you're dead."

Zuko bent to the chair and carefully lifted her, carrying her the few short steps between the chair and the bed and depositing her on the mattress. She was so tired she didn't even resist him. Carefully he shook the blankets over her, and when she forced her eyes open, her gaze questioning, he said, "Just returning the favor. Sleep well, my Queen." He kissed her hand, half-teasing, half-serious, and turned out the lights.

#

The wind coming off the water was cool, but he was still sweating, even though he'd taken off his shirt. He had managed to collect Hama (not hiding his mistrust, he glared at her, shivering at the memory of his limbs not under his own control) and the two shipwrights—who, it turned out, were a father-daughter team—so now they were all at the docks, seeing to the three ships. Zuko spoke to people who looked like they were in charge and collected the wounded, about fifteen, and brought them to Hama; then he went aboard the first ship, the Golden Tooth, with Jiyu. The Golden Tooth was apparently the worst-damaged out of the three, so the stocky young woman had narrowed her eyes at him and waved him over, saying, "You. You can lift things, right? I need you to lift things." Zuko hid a smile and added another sentence to the imaginary letter to Iroh he was drafting: _I will never tire of Earth Kingdom manners_.

He did not risk using his bending to move the debris out of the engine room. Sure, Katara's court mostly knew who he was, but he didn't think he'd seen Jiyu that night, and if the Dai Li were truly in contact with the Fire Nation, he figured he should get used to not using his bending in public. So he hefted twisted hunks of metal out of the way so that she could inspect the boiler, in the hopes that the actual engine was fine and they'd just need to repair the hull. So now he was mainly sweating while idly watching Jiyu squat in front of the boiler as she knocked and tugged at things according to a system which was utterly arcane to him. But at last she leaned away and said, "Yeah, boiler's okay. We're gonna need some benders to help with the hull."

Without really thinking about it, he asked, "How do you know so much about ships? You look, well, quite young."

Jiyu turned to him and stared at him like he was an idiot. Slowly, Zuko was beginning to accept that in many more areas of his life than he had previously thought, this was indeed the case, but he wasn't sure exactly why she was looking at him like that. Seeing that the light still wasn't dawning, Jiyu clarified, "My father and I used to steal them, and we were so good at it that the Queen offered to keep us on retainer. And also so we wouldn't steal _her_ ships anymore."

Zuko blinked. "You… used to steal the Queen's ships? And she offered you a _job_?"

Jiyu blinked back. "Yeah. We stole _everyone's_ ships and we sold them back for ransom, or we sold ships we stole from other people to her, or we sold her ships to other people. Bu-ut, well, a lot of people were getting very mad at us, and the old man was getting older. So Master Katara tracked us down and offered us a deal. Flat fee every month for ordinary maintenance plus extra for big jobs, like this one, which is going to cost her a pretty penny, I tell you flat!" She grinned and smacked the wall of the ship, which, of course, caused the boiler to belch unhappily. She started, took another keen look at it, then turned back to him and finished, "Lady rewards loyalty, hustle, and talent, in that order. She doesn't care about your past; if you do good work for her, she'll keep you happy."

Zuko found his hands automatically curling, ready to bend, and jerked them behind his back before the smoke cleared and Jiyu noticed. Then he narrowed his eyes and said, "How do you know Katara's name? She asked me not to use it outside her chambers."

Jiyu raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, she weren't Queen when she did the deal with us. She was an enforcer, so everyone just called her Master Katara. Think her insisting on being called Queen of Thieves is more about respect and image than about her bein' private, 'cause she isn't. Buuut, if we're talkin' strange forms of address, well, I would never dare call her just Katara."

Zuko colored and ignored the question in her voice and narrowed eyes. He coughed and said, "Yes, well. So you said that you need benders to help you fix the ship? Is there anything else I can collect for you?"

Jiyu made a face that indicated that she was less than impressed by his evasive maneuver, but she rattled off a list of tools for him to fetch, and when his eyes glazed over, she also explained where he should go to get them. Once Zuko had managed to memorize her shopping list and the directions, he disembarked and headed back to the city at a clip, thinking distractedly on Jiyu's words.

…Loyalty, hustle, and talent; and if you do good work for her, she'll keep you happy. I'm starting to see how a girl barely my age managed to take over a whole city.

#

All told, it took nearly four hours to get things sorted at the docks. Zuko mainly ran around like a headless chicken, doing odd jobs and fetching whatever the shipwrights or Hama needed. It reminded him to some extent of his work organizing in the Fire Nation. Sure, sneaking around as the Blue Spirit, feared and loved, was fun, but once he started to get official about it, there were a lot of days like this one, full of dogsbodying and treading water. People in Shinzo prefecture need food, load up this cart; people in Enoha need medicine, go and steal from the royal doctor's stores; and so on, and so on.

At first, he'd almost resented it. He was a Prince of the Fire Nation, putting duty above his station; shouldn't he be given more important things to do? But, slowly, he had started to see how ridiculous that was. What was more important than bringing food to the starving, or medicine to the sick? Sure, it involved a lot of haggling over bribes with commercial captains, a lot of hauling heavy but fragile cargo, and not as much sneaking around or deeds of derring-do. And he rarely actually met the people he helped, since leaving the capital would have cast suspicion on him and would have precluded his main duty of providing the rebellion with intel on Ozai's plans and movements. When he did, they were often too exhausted by their situation to express much gratitude. But the fact of the matter was that you needed to lay bricks every day to build a tower. Zuko thought with a pang of his failed attack on the palace. He'd thought he'd learned that lesson, but when it got down to the wire, he'd been slapdash and arrogant, like always. And it had gotten people killed.

He was fingering something smooth in his pocket absently and realized with a shock that it was the white lotus tile from Katara's Pai Sho board. He hadn't even realized he'd taken it. Well, no matter. He'd just replace it when she wasn't looking. He hesitated for a moment; it felt somehow improper just to knock. Loh was nowhere to be seen. Just as he raised his fist, the door swung open. "Come in." He obeyed.

Katara was leaning against the edge of the bed and staring at him coolly, her arms crossed over her chest. She'd showered and changed into deep red silks, another midriff-baring top this time with loose pants that were just translucent enough so that you could make out her shapely legs beneath them. "Well, Zuko," she murmured, "your first day, and you've already disobeyed a direct order? And you've stolen from me."

Zuko started, utterly bewildered. "What? What are you talking about?"

Katara smiled grimly and slinked up to him as she spoke, like a cobra preparing to strike. "I told you to wake me after two hours. Did you forget?"

"No—"

"Did you lose your way?"

She was behind him now and he was nervous, his body frozen. "No. Katara—"

Her hands were slipping around his waist, stroking, and he was utterly confused and also utterly hard from feeling her lovely body against his. He bit down a shudder and waited. Her hands tucked into his pockets, thumbing his hipbones along the way, and for a moment he thought that she might actually touch him, and he started to move—but she whirled away and walked back in front of him, brandishing the white lotus tile. "And you stole this. Why? A message? To someone in the Fire Nation?" she demanded, her voice silk threaded with blades.

"To my uncle," Zuko said, clenching his fists, struggling to keep his voice calm. "To let him know I am safe. I didn't realize I'd taken it. I'm sorry." He took a breath and looked her in the eyes. Her expression was slightly less sinister now; she was waiting to hear his excuse, ready to afford him at least a smidgeon of the benefit of the doubt. "And—Katara, you needed rest. Your ships and your people are on the mend. You were shaking and barely awake. What could you have done to help them in that state?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I could have been there."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really. Falling asleep on your feet? Is that the image you want to project to your people?"

Katara glared, opened her mouth to say something—and relaxed. She sighed heavily and said, "I… I suppose you're right." Her gaze turned sharp again and she added, "But watch it another time, all right?"

Zuko bit on a grin and bowed. "Yes, my Queen."

She looked at him skeptically, but waved a hand and said, "Fine, fine. Truth be told, I do feel more… myself, now." She walked back over to the Pai Sho board, and after delicately replacing the white lotus tile, she collapsed into one of the chairs and gestured for him to sit in the other. "Give me a full report and we'll go from there. How much damage? How many injured?" She smirked. "And how much are Taiji and Jiyu gonna bleed me for the repair job?"

Zuko smiled back at her as he crossed the room to sit with her. "Let's just say you're going to need a transfusion or two."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Some sex and some violence in this chapter. The sex is a little more graphic than the violence ;) don't forget to leave a review!

IV. Strippers

After he'd given his report, Katara had stared at him thoughtfully, then dragged him along to the gym where they'd sparred and shoved him inside. "I've got meetings, and I don't want you idle, so go ahead and train. I'll come get you in a few hours with your next assignment."

So he'd meditated some, paced a lot, gone through his basics the way his uncle taught him. But all of that only took about an hour. Katara still hadn't returned his dao swords, so he poked around the gym to see if he could find a suitable substitute. When she returned, he was practicing somewhat unsuccessfully with two light handweights. They were heavier than the swords, and as such most of his moves weren't really working. He was more risking pulling a muscle than practicing.

Katara had entered a few minutes back, but he didn't acknowledge her, letting her watch him for a few more moments. Huffing in frustration, he put the weights down and took a breath, then threw a few punches, flames flaring at his fists, and lashed his foot out in a kick, a blast of fire heating the mirror just slightly. Breathing a little heavily, he asked, "Do you have my swords? These weights are… less than ideal."

Katara shoved herself off the wall with a smirk and replied, "They're around somewhere." She walked over to stand in front of him and said, "Well? Ready for your next task?"

Zuko took a breath and nodded. "You had me train, so I assume it's some kind of guard duty?"

Katara smiled. "Oh yes, but a lot more… interesting." She gestured. "Follow."

He sighed quietly and obeyed, almost forgetting to grab his shirt from where he'd tossed it on the floor and tug it over his head, and jogged a bit to catch up. He tried hard to draw his eyes away from the swaying of her hips, balanced by the pendulum swing of her long brown hair, which was bound up in a kind of ponytail, but since she didn't look back at him in any case, he gave up. The hallway was dim, lit by smallish torches just above their heads, and so she kept a hand running delicately along the wall as they went. She moved gracefully, but not in the way that her "girls" did, not exactly; she moved like a warrior, her step easy but quick and firm.

They took a few turns and Zuko tried to keep track, but the hideout's halls were dark and low, and the turns were sharp, such that you could barely see one coming before you were right in front of it. Probably by design, he thought; if the Dai Li ever tried to storm the premises, there were a lot of chokepoints the Queen's court could use to cut them down before they reached anywhere significant.

Finally, they reached a doorway, which, he realized as they approached, was actually more like a shaft you'd see in a mine. A slight, dark-haired young man was leaning on the wall just beside it. "Reiko, we need to go up," said Katara. The young man nodded and made some gestures that Zuko couldn't understand. Katara darted a look back to Zuko and smirked. She replied, "Mhm. Well observed."

A dry, wheezing sound came from Reiko's throat, and Zuko realized that he was laughing. Katara dragged him into the shaft and murmured, "Hang on tight, this can be a little jarring the first time." Unthinking, he tugged her to his chest, one hand gripping her shoulder and the other on her lower back. He felt a lurch, he clutched Katara tighter, and the ground beneath them fell away—no, rose, and he could just glimpse Reiko motioning with his hands beneath them, lifting the earth. "It's an elevator," Katara murmured against his chest.

"How does he know when to stop?" Zuko hissed, with no small amount of alarm.

Katara giggled and murmured, "He can feel the earth in the upper floor." She looked up at him, humor lighting her bright blue eyes, and added, "And when I said 'hang on tight,' I was in fact referring to those handles down there." As the earth beneath them came to a stop, Zuko turned in their embrace, and saw four leather handles coming out of the floor.

"Oh," he muttered, and let her go.

Katara raised an eyebrow at him and took his hand, tugging him out of the shaft and on to solid ground. Behind them, he heard the strange elevator lurch back down. He coughed and asked, "What were those gestures he was doing at you?"

"Sign language. He's mute," Katara answered, running her fingers along a series of cloaks hanging on the left wall.

Zuko's brow wrinkled. "Then how—"

Selecting a dark brown cloak, she waved a hand at him and replied, "I said _mute_ , not deaf. He can hear you just fine, he just can't speak. But he's an excellent bender." Draping the cloak around her shoulders and clicking the clasp, she turned back to him and said, "So do you have a problem with needles?"

"Uh, what?" Zuko asked, utterly perplexed. "What does that have to do with bodyguarding?"

Katara flicked her pointer finger up at him and tapped the little dagger tattoo. "Where you're going, you'll need one of these. Oh, and these too." She shuffled through the cloaks and to his relief produced his swords in their sheaths, handing them over to him. "Thanks," he said, jerking them apart and inspecting the blades. Thankfully, they looked as sharp as they'd ever been. He smiled, turning them this way and that. He'd missed them. Then she turned and opened the door just in front of them, which, it turned out, led to the street. "Well? Coming?"

With that strange mix of apprehension and excitement that seemed to fill him every time Katara was near, he sheathed his swords and stepped into the blue half-light of twilight in Ba Sing Se.

#

"So what do you have against letting me know what I'm getting into?" he murmured to her as they darted through the broken, crooked streets of the Lower Ring.

Beneath her hood, Katara grinned. "Oh, nothing in particular. I just like keeping you on your toes."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Ah, of course. You get off on being the woman of mystery, do you?"

Katara smirked. "First off, I already told you how I get off, remember?" She let her hand drift along his thigh, in a way that could have been accidental but given the look on her face absolutely wasn't. Zuko gritted his teeth to stifle a gasp and suppress the urge to shove her against the nearest wall and take her right there. Goddamn you're dangerous, he thought, staring down at her, you've got me wrapped around your little finger. And the worst part is, I fucking _want_ to be. She met his gaze with a wry one of her own and continued, "Also a, I will be there with you, and b, you won't have time to get nervous or tetchy if I only tell you right before. Speaking of, we're here."

He nearly bumped into her as she came to a stop, but once he'd balanced himself, he followed her gaze. They were in front of a squat little building with a lotus made of crystal lighting the window. He narrowed his eyes and noticed the room beyond was covered in red velvet drapery, and he could just see the faint glow of lamps, could feel their fires. His eyes turned back to the lotus, which looked somehow familiar. And with a shock, he recognized it, and blurted out, "This is a brothel!"

Katara giggled and replied, "Excellent detective work there, princeling. We only tricked the symbol out in expensive crystal and hung it right in the window."

He blushed and said hotly, "It's not like I have a whole lot of experience with them, you know!"

Katara just raised an eyebrow and murmured, "Right. I'm sure you all keep your whores right in the palace. Easy access."

"Of course we don't," Zuko snapped. "That would be—inappropriate, unbecoming of the Fire Lord—"

"Who enjoys killing people. For fun," Katara said sharply, her arms crossed over her chest, expression severe. Zuko deflated, but she continued, in a very deliberate voice, "If you're right, maybe he could use some."

But Zuko shook his head, looking away from her. He ran his hands over one another, remembering the pain as his fingers broke, remembering his own screams. Ozai's laughter. "I don't think it would have made a difference," he muttered, his voice hard.

He could feel her eyes on him, but he wouldn't look at her. Finally she cleared her throat awkwardly and said, in a surprisingly gentle voice, "Well. I expect you would know." She put a tentative hand on his shoulder and said, "Come on. You should come meet the girls."

They entered. The ceilings were low, only about a foot above Zuko's head, and everything was covered in red velvet. There were low couches and tables, a shiny black bar, and a few women were darting around the room, lighting candles and torches, starting to burn incense. "They're not open yet," Katara murmured against his shoulder. "But most places open around 7 or 8."

One of the candle-girls looked up at him and smiled. "Sorry, sir, we're still closed, but if you—"

Zuko could feel his skin heat and he flung up his hands in a gesture of denial, stuttering, "I'm—no, I'm not—"

He felt Katara's chuckle against him before she stepped out from behind him. "He's with us, Layli. New recruit."

The girl's face changed, actual glee lighting her eyes. "My lady! I'll just let everyone know you're here!"

Katara flicked her hood back to reveal a warm smile. "Not before I get a hug, my girl! Come here." She opened her arms and Layli ran into them, giggling. "How's school?" Katara asked against her hair. She looked up to see Zuko's horrified look and clarified softly, "She doesn't _work_ here. She just lights candles and sweeps up. Her mother does."

"Ah."

Layli turned and glanced at him before continuing enthusiastically, "School's great, Master. I'm concentrating in mathematics, and—"

Katara rubbed her shoulder and said, "That's fantastic, Layli! I want to hear more, but let's get the others, hmm?" She turned back to Zuko with a warning finger and said, "Stay there."

"Of course, lady," Layli gushed, and, taking Katara's hand, continued to chatter about her mathematics concentration. Zuko watched her, watched Katara smiling and laughing with her, and he felt a strange ache in his heart. The girl looked about fifteen, not much younger than himself and Katara, but she was so clearly still a child, even though she was here, must have seen—well. She seemed… innocent. How the hell had Katara done that? How had she managed, in this war-torn world, to create a place for someone like Layli to be a child? It was… amazing. It was amazing, and he was jealous, jealous and sad, that he'd never really had that. But despite the grief, his heart felt light, too. If Katara could really do that, could protect people in this way… well, _that_ was a kind of leadership you could believe in.

Katara and Layli disappeared for a few minutes, but soon she returned, circled by a group of around twenty women. With their singsong voices and brightly-colored clothes, he was reminded again of paradise birds, Katara their trainer. He noticed how her attention was spread among all of them, and yet every person she looked at, even for a moment, seemed to feel her focus. As the women approached, he noticed that most of them seemed to bear the same tattoo somewhere on their persons, a small lotus flower in blue ink. He saw one on a shoulderblade, one on the inside of another girl's wrist, another just above a girl's ass. He frowned. Like a brand.

Some of them were looking at him, curiosity, suspicion, anger, or interest in their eyes, and he kind of waved, not sure how he should greet them. His upbringing as a prince of the Fire Nation demanded one form of address for noblewomen, another for subjects, another for servants, and when in doubt, one had to choose the most formal option. But he felt instinctively that here, less was more. Thankfully, Katara solved his dilemma. She turned to the small flock and announced, "Girls, this is Zuko. Both of us will be guarding you tonight. If you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him as you would to me." She grinned slyly at him and added, "Though he's a little shy, so you're probably better off coming to me for lady troubles." They laughed obligingly. She turned to Zuko and asked, "Now, you ready to get tatted up?"

He frowned and began, "I thought it was just the one—" but she was already dragging him towards one of the back rooms.

#

It turned out getting tattooed on one's finger hurt rather a lot, because the skin was close to the bone. But he'd had worse. As one of the girls bent over his hand with the needle, Katara stood behind him, watching, her hand on his shoulder. At first, the tattoo artist, whose name was Ino, just added the standard enforcer's dagger; but when she was nearly done, Katara said, "Add a crown over it."

Ino looked up. "A crown? Really, mistress?" She looked at Zuko with a kind of—respect? But there was doubt in her eyes too.

Katara squeezed Zuko's shoulder, as if to say, don't get riled up. "Yes," she said, her voice sure. So Ino obeyed. The other girls were milling around, talking or doing each other's hair or eating or watching Zuko. Unnerved by their gazes, Zuko turned back to Ino, who was finishing up the crown, and asked, "Your name is Ino? Are you from the Fire Nation?"

He'd meant it to be a relatively innocuous question, but she flinched, putting down the needle quickly. "Yes. My—my mother was." She carefully picked up the needle again and kept at her work, silent.

My mother was, Zuko thought, and looked at the girl more closely. She had the intense dark hair of the Fire Nation, but her eyes were green, and her skin was darker than most Fire Nation folk. She was probably, he realized, the product of a "mixed marriage," in his father's words "a half-breed." Uncommon in the Fire Nation, and definitely despised, especially in these times. Which was probably why she'd left.

Katara opened her mouth to say something, probably to apologize for him, but Zuko was a little sick of letting her speak for him. He had always, for better or worse, spoken for himself. So before she could, he said, "I—I'm sorry, Ino. I hadn't meant to offend you. I hail from there as well, but I understand if your memories of home are… less than pleasant." She looked up at him and he raised his other hand to hers. "So are mine."

Ino smiled, awkwardly but kindly. "Y—yes." She made a few final pricks with the needle and sat back. "You're done, Zuko." He felt Katara's power flow through him, taking the pain and irritation in his skin away. He turned to her and met her gaze, kissing the hand still resting on his shoulder softly. "Thank you." It was technically a polite gesture, but the way he was looking at her was distinctly more than polite, and he could see her eyes glaze slightly with lust, her nails digging into his skin for a moment. But she collected herself quickly and said, "Thank you, Ino. Can you do me one more favor and fetch me a veil?" She glanced back at Zuko and added, "Actually, we need a disguise for him, too. Bring me some foundation and some concealer, and a black veil."

Ino stood and bowed. "Absolutely, lady." As she darted away with quick, efficient steps, Zuko stood too, eyeing his newly-decorated pointer finger. Well, if there had been any doubt left, it was gone now: he was definitely _never_ going to be Fire Lord. Not with a gang tattoo on his hand, right where everyone could see it. Something about what Katara had said itched the back of his brain and he asked, "Disguise?"

Katara smirked at him, a slightly devilish gleam in her eye. "Well, princeling, you do have this very… distinguishing marking, here," she said, reaching out a hand to brush the bad side of his face. He flinched a little but allowed her touch. Her fingers lingered, tracing down to his jaw. "We need to cover it up a little." She stepped back and tapped her chin, looking around the room, then pointed to one of the plush chairs settled around the tables. "Sit there."

Zuko obeyed. The chair was very comfortable, and the back was slightly reclined, so he leaned into it. As he turned to look back at Katara, he saw Ino reenter the room with some compacts, brushes, and the veils, which she laid on the table in front of him. Katara smiled and thanked her, then walked over herself. She picked up a compact and a brush and then, to his shock, she settled herself on top of his lap so that she was straddling him. Fuck, he could feel the heat of her, just south of where he wanted it, and her jasmine scent was filling his nose. If he bent forward just a little his lips would be touching her breasts. Desire coiled tight in his stomach and he gripped the chair's armrests, trying to stop himself from dragging her closer.

"Katara—" he hissed, but she pressed a finger to his lips and murmured under her breath, "Hush. Be good. Lean back a little more."

He swallowed thickly and obeyed. She was smirking a little as she leaned in, beginning to brush some of the strange powder over his cheek. Zuko tried to relax, breathing deeply, but he was aware of every point of contact between her body and his, every millimeter of distance that he longed to bridge. His cock pulsed and he thought she had to feel his excitement stirring against her thigh. He swallowed again, but she seemed indifferent, going about her task without comment.

"Now close your eyes," she murmured softly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he muttered back.

She couldn't quite hide her smirk, but replied matter-of-factly, "Well, I have to get your eyelid."

He breathed shakily and closed his eyes. Did she know what she was doing to him? She had to, but she was playing innocent. Playing _with him_. Frustration and lust roiled in him, but he forced himself to calm down. Well, then, he thought, if she wants to play, let's play. He moved his clenched fists just slightly, so that his knuckles were just brushing her hips, and started to stroke her lightly. He felt her twitch a little, heard her gasp quietly, but she didn't move or push him away. "Now some concealer," she murmured, and leaned back to grab a smaller pot from its place on the table. As she shifted against him, just for a moment, her heat rubbed against his groin before she settled back into her prior position, and he actually jumped beneath her, his body desperate for more contact.

"Katara," he growled, trying to keep his voice low, "you are driving me _crazy_."

"Really?" she said airily. "I thought I was just making you up. I bet you're glad you're wearing loose pants, though." She grinned and she rubbed against him again, very subtly, and he bit his tongue. "Just relax," she murmured, slightly more sincerely, as she traced a finger around his eye, rubbing the cream in.

He grunted a sardonic laugh and tucked the tips of his fingers beneath her waistband. "Do you really want me to relax, Katara?" he whispered, his breath huffing against her neck. He felt her skin pebble a little under his touch and he wanted to press her against him, shove her clothes to the side, take her hard and right now. It felt like no one else was in the room and at the same time he was keenly aware of the presence of other people in the room, of the ladies talking and laughing.

"Mm," she sighed, leaning into him. "Do _you_ really want me to stop?"

He opened his eyes, looked her right in hers, which were hazy and deep, almost black, and growled, "No."

Something sparked in her eyes, and for a moment he thought that they were going to fuck, right here, right now, in front of all these people, but then she leaned away from him, the sultry expression bleeding away, and she clapped her hands, saying, "Done!" She slipped away and tossed the veil to him. "Put this on."

He stared at her with a mixture of astonishment and frustration, gripping the armrests again. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't find the words. Was she really just going to—she—goddamn it—

But now the sultry smile was back and she put a hand on her hip. "Can't even put on a veil by yourself?" She sighed theatrically and said, "Very well." She picked the veil up off where it had landed on his lap and draped it over the lower half of his face, ignoring the way his eyes burned into her. She bent to his ear as she tied its strings and whispered, "Calm down, Zuko. I'll take care of you, I promise. But later."

He took a harsh breath and muttered, "You, Katara, you are—fucking maddening—"

She grinned and nipped his ear. "I know. Hush. Be good." Then she leaned away and walked over to a clump of girls. He tried to breathe regularly, looking around, trying to see if anyone was looking at him, if anyone _knew_. But the only looks he got were in response to his own searching ones. Either they really hadn't noticed, or their loyalty to Katara prevented them from looking too closely.

He rubbed at his good eye. This woman was going to give him a heart attack. But she'd said something about later. His lust-addled brain said that was a good sign, that he could relax for now. He noticed a mirror face-down on the table and decided to check out Katara's handiwork.

On seeing himself in the glass, he started. It was—strange. Like going back in time. He could still see the pink edges of his scarred skin if he looked closely, but from a reasonable distance, his face looked smooth. His bad eye was still a little squinted, but it was much less noticeable than usual, especially with the black silk of the veil covering the lower half of his face. He wasn't sure how to feel. He had never seen his adult face without the scar, or mostly without it. His face looked softer, younger. He… hated it. He tried not to slam the mirror down on the table.

Feeling that he was no longer in a state to cause him embarrassment if he rose, he did so, and walked over to Katara, who was now wearing a veil the same red as her silks. She'd also put her cloak back on. She was talking quietly to a girl in light green negligee, who was looking like she was about to cry. Seeing her expression, Zuko hung back for a minute, contriving to indicate by his position that he wanted to speak to Katara, but also wanted to respect the young woman's privacy. Katara was rubbing her shoulder in soothing circles and murmuring something. The woman responded, "I know, lady, but he just keeps—"

Katara shook her head, folding her into an embrace. "Asara. Trust me, all right? I'll take care of it." She kissed the woman's cheek and then walked over to Zuko. She smirked slightly, folding her arms over her chest, and murmured, "Feeling a little more yourself?"

He snorted. "No thanks to you, my lady."

She laughed and said, "I see you are, then. Come along. I figure I should show you the rooms and give you the rundown on how it works." She took his hand and led him to the back of the room, where he could just see another ill-lit hallway. As they turned the corner, he bent down and licked her neck, grinning against her skin and muttering, "I thought I'd made it clear to you that I know how _it_ works…"

"That remains to be seen," she said evenly, but he felt her shudder. She stopped in front of a translucent curtain, also a lush shade of crimson, and pushed it aside, beckoning for him to follow her. There was a small, low bed, a bedside table, a washbasin, and not much else.

Katara sighed and gestured toward the bed, "You know what that's for. Table here so they can leave the money, but—" she opened the drawer—"most of the girls also like to keep a weapon or two in here. And also some makeup and scent and that, other tools of the trade." She gestured to the washbasin, continuing, "That is for hygiene. We encourage the boys to wash up _before_ as well as after. All that is pretty self-explanatory, however, what you might not have noticed and what is of particular importance to us here is this." She yanked a ribbon that he'd originally thought was part of the drapery decorating the bed and jumped when he heard a loud bell ring. "These bells, as you can hear, are really fucking loud. The girls will sometimes ring them by accident, but if we hear this sound, we are going to go to the room it came from and drag the john out of it stat, no questions asked or answered."

Zuko wrinkled his brow. "Really? I mean isn't that a little, I don't know… unfair? Risky?"

Katara glared fiercely at him. "No. My first priority is these girls' safety. Period, end. Anyone going to any brothel in this city knows that my policy is zero. Fucking. Tolerance."

Against his better judgment, Zuko continued, "But—then, do you give the men back their payment, or?"

"Absolutely not." Katara stalked up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. "And I resent what you are implying. You're thinking, maybe one of the girls is tired one night, right? So she rings the bell. She can still make money without doing what she was paid for."

Zuko backed up, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I wouldn't blame them," he said defensively, "I'd consider it myself if I were—you know—and having a bad night."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Men." She rubbed her temples and said, "Zuko, understand this. Most of the folks coming through our door just want some pussy and a nice time. But it doesn't take much for a man to decide a woman is his property, especially if he has paid for that woman's time. But I'm not in the business of selling or owning slaves. A john can do whatever he's paid for, but too many of them start doing more than that the second they feel like they can get away with it." She looked him in the eyes and added, "Listen. Every single time a girl has rung that bell, and it hasn't been a pure accident, it has been because a man got violent or tried to do something he definitely did not pay for."

All Zuko could say was, "Oh."

"And regardless of what you think, those are your orders. Hear a bell, kick a douchebag out." Her gaze pinned him. "Can I trust you to do that?"

Zuko nodded and bowed, solemnly. "Yes, my Queen. You have my word."

#

The front rooms were for negotiation and "socializing," i.e. the johns deciding which of the girls took their fancy; the back rooms were for sex. Or, Zuko learned, not just sex. Sometimes men just wanted lapdances or stripteases, or even just company. The clientele was mostly men, but there were a few women who came in every so often too. The girls mostly negotiated for themselves, but if a john was giving trouble, they would apparently sometimes call the enforcer over in order to communicate that haggling could only go so far before the john in question would be kindly but firmly redirected to a brothel nearer his price point. If a girl was nervous about a john, she might ask for an enforcer to stand guard directly outside her door; otherwise, he and Katara would stand out front, mostly right by the door, where they'd have a good vantage point of the whole room. They would also patrol along the rooms every hour or so.

It was an hour before opening time, and more people started to trickle in. It turned out that there was a small kitchen back behind the bar, as well as an official barmaid, though most of the girls could mix at least a few drinks themselves. Layli and a few of the others he'd seen lighting candles left at thirty minutes till the hour. He saw her kiss her mother, Hana, who looked to be in her late thirties and was really beautiful, all creamy skin and lightly curling hair, goodbye. Hana shook a finger at Layli, admonishing, "And remember to do your homework!"

Which made it all the weirder when opening time finally came and Hana was suddenly a sultry seductress, lying languid along the couches, playing with the men's hair, laughing at their jokes, letting her sleeves slide down to bare her shoulders. And Ino, shy, angry little Ino, was giggling and sitting on laps. It was strange. It was like… well, it was a little like seeing his face in the mirror without his scar. Each of the women was—herself, but not herself.

"You're thinking," Katara murmured. " _What_ are you thinking, my Hand?"

"They're different," he whispered back. "That woman, there—"

"Asara," she supplied.

"Asara, she was so upset just then, and now she seems—" he searched for a word—"I don't know, silly?"

They watched as Asara giggled and playfully poked the nose of a man in an Earth Kingdom guard's uniform. Katara shrugged and replied, "Is it really so surprising? Surely you understand the value of, well, acting, at least a little bit."

"Yes. I was taught that preserving honor and decorum were always more important than what I was feeling internally. That I was duty-bound to put on a good face," Zuko murmured, still watching the girl. "But I was never very good at it."

Katara smiled slightly to herself. "I'm not surprised."

"But you are," Zuko said, a slight accusing tone entering his voice. "Good at acting, I mean."

Katara shrugged. "Well. It's something I learned from watching the girls here. One of the reasons I wanted you to meet them, actually." She pointed at Hana, who was lying on her side on a couch, nodding interestedly, or so it seemed, in response to the words of the man she was speaking to. "The best girls, like Hana, like Sujin, they don't really act. They just kind of channel aspects of their own personalities. Hana has a kind of, I don't know, _inner_ quality about her, and when she's working, she uses that. Men who want to feel important, listened to—which is most of them—they like Hana, because she always seems deeply focused on what they're saying, what they're doing." Katara grinned. "But I can bet you she's sitting there worrying about whether Layli's got home safe." She gestured to another girl on the opposite side of the room, who appeared, to Zuko's astonishment, to be acting out a particularly bawdy scenario with extremely expressive hand gestures. "Now Bishra, she's not what you would call _traditionally_ pretty, but she gets men's attention because she is easy to be around. She's a bit of a jokester naturally, so she uses that. She seems much more approachable than a lot of the other girls, a lot less intimidating, so new people tend to gravitate to her first."

"I see," Zuko murmured. He turned to look down at Katara, who was still watching Bishra, smiling, probably recognizing the story she was telling so elaborately. Zuko leaned close to Katara, breathing her in, and asked, "And what about you?"

"Sorry?" she asked, still distracted. To get her attention, he pressed his lips to her shoulder through the veil. "I asked about you. What do you, well, channel, so to speak?" he murmured against her skin.

"Oh." Katara bit her lip, thinking. "Different things. I—things changed a lot, when I became Queen of Thieves. I had to learn to be… softer. I'm still not used to it."

He kind of rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Way to be cryptic, Katara."

She shrugged, shifting a bit uncomfortably, so he had to move back from her a little. "I—I don't really like to talk about it, Zuko. I like showing that I care. I like making all my people feel important. But I am still… angry, about so many things, and it's hard to hide that, because when I was an enforcer, I had to use my anger a lot."

Not knowing what else to do, Zuko brushed the back of her hand with his own, and when her fist loosened, he clasped his fingers between hers. "Thank you," he murmured, "for being honest with me."

She laughed a little. "I mean—it's hard not to be, Zuko. It's… not like I have that many opportunities to talk about myself anymore."

"Oh?" he said, his tone teasing, "So it's not just that you can't resist my pure charisma?"

He just had time to catch the edge of her evil grin before she pressed herself against him, dipping her fingers beneath his waistband to stroke his hipbones. He bit on a groan and she chuckled against his chest. "I don't think I'm the one who has the problem with _resisting_ , Zuko," she murmured, and peeled herself off him with a self-satisfied smirk.

He started to say something, figuring he'd decide once it came out whether he was going to swear at her or beg her for more, but then they both heard a bell. "Room Five," Katara murmured, and she was off running. Zuko blinked for a moment before following her.

It turned out she didn't need it. The man, the "john," was slammed against the wall, his body encased in ice up to his neck. "Kira, are you all right?" Katara asked, her voice sharp.

Zuko followed her gaze. There was a slight woman in the corner who looked a little older than him, perhaps twenty-five, and she was breathing hard, holding her stomach. "He hit me," she coughed. Zuko ran to her but when he got close, he approached carefully. "You're okay, Miss Kira, you're okay," he murmured. "Just breathe."

As he was trying to calm her, he heard the man scream, "What the fuck is your deal, lady? She's just a slut!"

Katara growled and pulled her arm back, jerking it forward again. The man slammed into the wall again. But she wasn't done. She pulled her arm back and slammed him again. Zuko winced each time. He saw the dark look in her eyes. "The moon is still almost full," she hissed, and her movements, usually fluid, became jerky. She twisted her arms and the man began to gasp and wheeze.

She was choking the john. He didn't know how, but she was choking him, and he was dying, and the thought flashed through his head: I can't watch her do this. "Katara!" he yelled. "Katara, _stop_!"

Katara looked back at him, her eyes clear and cold. "No."

The man gasped, and it sounded like there was liquid in his throat. Zuko didn't even think. He blasted a wave of fire at Katara, forceful enough to knock her over, but not hot enough to actually burn her. Katara fell and rolled, coughing. She pushed herself up and looked at him. Fortunately, the cold look was gone from her eyes. Unfortunately, Zuko had broken her focus, freeing the "john" from his ice cage and Katara's chokehold. He lunged at Katara.

But she recovered quickly. She whipped his legs out from under him and caged him again, this time on the floor. She looked at Zuko and said in a flat voice, "Thank you." She turned her eyes back to their prisoner. "Can you take out the trash while I see to Kira?"

"Yes, lady." She melted the ice and he grabbed the man's wrists with one hand, putting one of his swords to his neck with the other. "Come along."

#

"Katara," he murmured. "Katara, are you all right?"

She was standing in the hallway outside Kira's room. "I sent her home," she said without looking at him. "I gave her extra money and something good to eat."

"That's good," Zuko said carefully. "Are you all right?"

Katara laughed bitterly. "I almost killed a man in front of you, and you want to know if _I'm_ all right?"

Zuko blinked. "Um, yes?" He came to stand next to her, not touching her. "What did you do?"

"Bloodbending. I stopped the flow of blood to his heart." Her voice was toneless.

"Katara," he said again, not knowing what else to say.

She shoved herself off the wall. "Thank you for stopping me. We should go back."

He reached out a hand to her. "Katara, I think you should—"

She slapped him away. "I don't need your pity."

He let out a frustrated grunt and said, "How about my empathy?" She stopped and turned around to say something, but he continued, "You don't scare me. You did scare yourself."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You barely know me."

His chest throbbed with hurt, but… no. He wasn't going to let her win, not this time. He was going to push her a little bit. He leaned in and smirked. "Those are some bold words for someone who all but rode my dick in public earlier," he whispered.

She gaped at him for a few minutes, but she wasn't slapping him or choking him, which he supposed was a good sign. "You… are," she started, but the words died in her throat. She started again, "You—"

"I'm what, Katara?" He took her hands and pulled her towards him. "You don't _scare_ me," he repeated, clutching her hands.

She looked him in the eyes, her expression guarded. "Then you're crazy," she replied.

"That's my business," he said, and he kissed her.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey friends, this is the sexy chapter, with a bit of suspense for you at the end ;) I'll try and get the next update in as soon as I can, but for now, enjoy the Zutara smut/feels! Don't forget to review :)

V. Drunks

She looked, he thought, like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. They stared at each other, panting, frozen, until one of the girls came out of a room, fixing her hair. She glanced at them but continued walking past, figuring correctly that it wasn't her business, until Katara's arm shot out and grabbed hers, her eyes still on Zuko. "Lin, watch the door."

Lin looked confused, but bowed. "Of—of course, my lady."

Katara dragged him into the room the other girl had just vacated. It smelled like sex everywhere, which should have disgusted him, really it should have, but he was just more keyed up, eyes never moving from Katara. She said, "This is an awful idea."

He said, "I know."

And she pounced, and his hands were fucking full of her. She kissed fiercely, all tongue and clumsy teeth, and he bit her back, letting out all that frustration and desire onto her, into her body, as she tore off his shirt. They were not going to make it to the bed.

Kissing, breathing, desperate, they collapsed onto the floor. He bucked up against her, he could feel how hot her cunt was through her clothes, and it was painful and glorious. She yanked his pants down just far enough, but he shoved her hands away when they moved to her own. "Your breasts," he hissed, "I—I need to see them—"

Katara nodded and jerked her bandeau over her head. He growled and she gasped as he kissed and bit at her nipples. "Yes," she sighed, "yes, yes, Zuko—"

"Fuck," he said back, and tore off her pants. And then he could feel her against his cock, slick and hot, so hot, and he could not help but _rut_ , especially when she kept hissing his name like that, but then she grabbed his face, forcing him to look in her eyes, and said very deliberately, "If you don't fuck me properly _right now_ —" and he cut her off when she gasped because he'd slid inside, all the way.

He waited a moment to move, but then she clenched around him and he groaned, and his hips jerked into motion. He tried to control himself, he tried, but when Katara sank her nails into the flesh of his ass and hissed, "Faster," right in his ear, he hauled himself up on his forearms and started thrusting wildly into her, his eyes locked on hers.

Gasping, moaning, she suddenly rubbed her hand messily on the side of his face, too hard. He didn't stop fucking her, _could not_ stop, but he slowed in confusion. She swallowed and rasped, "I—I wanna see your face. All of your face. Your scar."

His eyes widened and he groaned, " _Katara_." His thrusts grew more erratic and she scratched, clawed his back, and he came. She was still tense with arousal, so he climbed down her body until his face was between her legs. He grabbed her hand and put it to the back of his head, rasping, "Show me how you like it," and she moaned, rolling her hips.

He kissed her clit and she hissed, her body jerking, so he kept lapping at it, gently, watching her intently. Her fingers were knotted in his hair so hard it hurt. She sat up for a moment, her eyes wide, so that she could see him, and she begged, "More," so he sucked her clit delicately, rolling his tongue across her as he did so, and she collapsed back onto the floor, her hips rolling and lurching as she gasped his name. He didn't need to ask whether she was close. He kept at it, and just as she seemed about to blow, he murmured, "Come for me. Hard," right against her pussy, and then flicked his tongue fast across her clit, shifting so he could thrust into her shallowly with his fingers, and she yelped, at last losing herself in pleasure. He kept licking her until she stilled.

He climbed back up and held her, and they breathed together for several minutes, neither of them daring to speak. Finally Katara looked up at him from where she was lying on his chest, her eyes intense. He braced himself, ready to hear "That's never going to happen again," or "You're fired," or literally anything other than what she actually said, which was, "Your pants are still kind of on."

He looked down and indeed, his pants were still around his calves. "Ah," he said, and then he looked at her ankles. "So are yours," he said, grinning and poking her teasingly at her hip. She laughed and kicked them off, and so did he. He turned and realized he was in reach of the bed, so he yanked the blanket down for them.

"We have to go back out there soon," Katara murmured, making no attempt to move away.

"Probably," Zuko agreed. "But it can wait fifteen minutes." He massaged her thigh and grinned lazily. "Even though you couldn't."

"Shut up."

"Yes ma'am."

"That is not shutting up," she said with a glare, shifting so that she was lying on his chest.

Zuko stroked his fingers through her hair, a mock-thoughtful expression on his face. "No, it isn't," he agreed placidly, and then he turned to look down at her, a wicked smirk on his face. "Is there something else you'd like me to do with my mouth instead?"

With a grunt, Katara flipped them over so that she sat on top of him and crawled until she was sitting on his chest, above his face. Obedient, he curled his arms around her thighs and got to work.

#

He was mapping her neck with his tongue when she sighed, "Zuko," with a kind of finality that meant she wanted to say something.

"Mm?" he asked, raising his head slightly, lazily, in the midnight gloom. They'd turned the lights off. It turned out her skin glowed even in the moonlight.

"We shouldn't—"

Kind of annoyed, he scraped his teeth along her skin slightly, warningly. "I think it's a bit late for that?"

She sighed. "No, I know, but what are we going to _do_?"

His heart buoyed by the word _we_ , he shrugged and leaned over her again, running his hands down her sides, stroking her hips with his thumbs. "I don't see that it's anyone's business but ours, is it?" he asked gently.

"No-oo," she hummed, playing with his hair. "But I mean, we just _left_. Lin will want a big bonus, a _big_ bonus. I know Fei will question my judgment. _I'm_ questioning my judgment." He tensed slightly, but decided to keep touching her, let her finish her thought. "I can't do things like this anymore. It matters what I do. They're watching me. They're _all_ watching me."

He sighed and raised himself to a sitting position so that he could tuck her hair behind her ear. She looked at him questioningly. "And yet, with all those eyes on you, no one really _sees_ you, is that right?" he asked.

#

Some hours later, it was still night, and now she was lying on his chest and it was his hands in her hair. "Katara," he murmured against the top of her head, "you have to let somebody in sometime, you know?"

She snorted. "Fine. Doesn't have to be you."

He started for a moment, but then he looked at her face, at the way she wasn't looking at him. He knew why she'd said it. He relaxed and dropped a few kisses on her head resting just below his chin, and rubbed her back. "You're right, it doesn't. But why not?"

#

"I know how it feels, you know."

"…What?"

"I do. I saw my father try to do it. Try to be both man and symbol. But he got it wrong in both directions. He thought that because he was a symbol, his faults as a man didn't exist; and he thought that because he was a man, he was not required to live up to the ideals he symbolized." He ran his hand lazily down her back, halfway tracing the path of her dragon tattoo, and let his fingers rest on the curve of her ass, lightly squeezing. "You get it right, in both directions. It's amazing."

Shielded by the dark, she murmured, "Thank you."

He squeezed her again, playful. "But that doesn't mean you can or should do it alone."

She groaned. "Zuko, not this again, I—" and started to shove herself away from him, but he grabbed her wrists, lightly, and she stopped moving, settling again against his chest. "Just think about it, Katara," he whispered.

#

"You yearn for trust. I can feel it."

She was quiet. Then she sighed and said, "That's ridiculous. You don't know what I feel."

"I do." He turned them so that he could look in her eyes. "I was _there_ , Katara. When—when my father cast me out, I didn't want to let anyone in, ever again. But it drove me crazy. And then I realized that my uncle Iroh had proven himself to me, over and over, and that even more important than that was the fact that I needed him. I needed _someone_." He squeezed her wrists, gently. "We _all_ do, Katara."

She glared at him. "I am the Queen. I am the _only_ Queen. This city is mine _alone_."

He shook his head. "It's not about that."

"I know that." She tossed her head at him and eyed him defiantly. "Anyway, what makes you think I'm so lacking in emotional support? I have advisers, friends, and lackies of all sorts. Why are you so sure I'm _missing something_?"

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and found her with his fingertips, had to bite his tongue on a curse at finding her wet, again, still. "Because you're so fucking defensive about it," he said. Then he smiled and gently slipped a finger in. "Anyway, this part of you certainly seems to be missing me already, and it's barely been twenty minutes."

Fingers curling around his wrist, urging him on, she hissed, "Shut up."

#

"What about you, huh?" she said, lying all over his chest like a sated lioness, tracing strange patterns across his collarbones. "Why do you want it so bad?"

He looked at her face. She'd asked the question in a kind of annoyed-yet-nonchalant way that told him that she didn't much care about his answer, was only asking because he'd been wearing her down all night. But there was something in her eyes that made him want to be honest. So instead of rolling his hips into her again where they were still joined and saying, "isn't it obvious?", instead of kissing her and saying "you're beautiful," he just sighed and looked up at the stars through the whorehouse window, which shone just as bright, or brighter. "Because I need someone to believe in too. Because it's too damn hard to resist liking you way too much already. Because you _impress_ me, Katara, so much."

She smiled, and behind the sardonic glint in her eyes he thought he saw the soft glow of genuine pleasure, though he couldn't be sure if it was real or if he was fooling himself again. "Damn, princeling," she murmured, her hands stealing down his chest, "I think that answer earns you at _least_ another blowjob."

#

When he woke up, she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

VI. Killers

A/N: The plot thickens! There are some references to sex and violence. Enjoy!

He supposed he should not have been surprised. He checked the restroom attached to the bedroom and the public one down the hall. He stumbled vaguely into the entrance hall, now dark except for a few candles left guttering in their holders around the room. In the corner was—

"Layli!"

The girl's head jerked up at the sound of her name and she smiled at him. "Oh hey, Zuko," she said, leaning her broom against the wall and walking over, embracing him. "How was your first night on the job?"

Zuko rubbed his eyes. "Eventful. Where is Lady Katara?"

Layli frowned. "Uh, I'm not sure—Ino?"

The other girl popped up from behind the bar, and Zuko started a little. "She left early this morning," Ino replied. Was there a slightly knowing look in her eyes as they flicked over to Zuko? "She was going to the dock, she said. To check on repairs."

The dock, my ass, he thought. "Really? I'll go and join her there, then," he said decisively.

"She left you some instructions, Lord Zuko," said Ino coolly. "She said you were to help us out for the rest of the day. We do need it," she added, looking him in the eyes. "Cleaning, accounting, all of those things."

"Well I—" Zuko ran his hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths. Would it really be wise to say to these girls that he and Katara had been intimate, and that he wanted to talk to her about it? That he thought she was avoiding him? And what would Katara say if he went after her instead of following orders? What had he expected, really? That because he'd said some pretty words and given her a few orgasms, she would suddenly open up to him? But at the same time, all the things they'd said… all the things _she'd_ said to him… When they'd touched each other, it had felt… passionate. _Emotional_. The kind of evening where you could reasonably expect that the lady would be there in the morning. For fuck's sake.

He opened his eyes. Layli was looking confused and concerned, while Ino was looking annoyingly smug, or sly. He met her gaze and only just kept himself from growling out the words, "All right, Ino. What do you need me to do?"

#

Zuko had not up to this point lived a life that had led him to expect that he might one day be leaning over a table, helping a brothel madam with her math. Of course, if you thought about it, it made sense; the brothel had a lot of expenses as well as earnings to deal with, and, to his immense shock, the girls paid tax. When he asked, the madam, Mrs. Su, smiled slyly and said, "Well, it's all part of the Queen's plan, see? If we bring money to the city—and we do, a lot of it—they're less inclined to come after us."

Bewildered, Zuko asked, "So then do her assassins pay tax? Drug dealers and smugglers? Everyone?"

Mrs. Su nodded. "Most nearly. The drug dealers usually don't itemize, though. Only we do, on account of how we can get certain rebates on expenditures." Looking up at his flabbergasted expression, she smirked and added, "On account of being performers, right?"

Zuko just shook his head. "Right," he said, for lack of any other appropriate response. "I think you've missed a one here."

It was a lot of math, but it was not terribly complicated math, so as he worked, checking over Mrs. Su's figures—usually accurate, but the good lady was getting on in years, and apparently had bad eyesight—his mind wandered back to the night before. To Katara. He'd checked around the room they'd used and she hadn't even left him a note. It just didn't make any sense! Why the hell bother lying in his arms all night, talking to him about her loneliness and her pride, if she didn't feel _some_ thing? And, conversely, if she _did_ , why run away now? Surely she had a sense that he wasn't about to let her just—just—not talk about this?

Not that he had much of an idea what "this" was, either. What did he even want from her? Well, right now, he just wanted her to admit that last night hadn't been only about sex. Oh yeah, and an apology for running off in the morning with no explanation and an assignment that involved mostly drudgery that anyone could have taken care of.

Was this some kind of punishment? Because he'd dared to try to get close to the elusive Queen of Thieves? Was she having second thoughts? Well, that stung, but what was he going to do to her, really? All she had to do was fucking _talk_ to him—

"Zuko." He looked up at Hana, who was sewing in the corner. "A word?"

He looked over at Mrs. Su, but she just waved a hand without looking up from her paper, so he walked over to the clutch of chairs Hana was occupying and sat across from her. Without looking up, she murmured, "This is about you and Lady Katara, right?"

"Sorry?" he replied, his tone more clipped than he might have liked. He was already agitated, and all the knowing stares some of the girls had been shooting his way were not helping matters.

"Forgive the pun, but I can feel the anger steaming off you," said Hana.

Zuko sighed and threw up his hands. "Do all of you _know_?"

Hana shrugged, her face still placid. "Not all. But we're not stupid. Or I'm not, anyway. I saw how you looked at each other." She licked her lips and finally met his gaze. "Katara is… complicated, Zuko."

"Really now? I hadn't noticed," he snapped back under his breath.

She sent him a dry, amused look and added, "Personally, I think as soon as she knew she wanted to fuck you, she should have demoted you."

He started for a moment, shocked at hearing such rude words spoken in her cultured voice, but collected himself quickly. "It's not clear to me that I have a great deal of authority as it is," he replied, glaring at her. "Everyone treats me like a kind of exotic pet." Including Katara, he thought bitterly.

Hana blinked at him. "Well, I can't say I know what that's like," she said flatly. Zuko colored and opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, "Look, my advice is just this: don't rock the boat. The people of Ba Sing Se need Lady Katara's attention on Fire Nation encroachments, not on… personal matters."

Zuko leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow at her. "You do the lady a disservice, Hana. _I_ think she's fully capable of governing both you and her personal life."

Hana merely raised her eyebrows and commented, "Do you? Did you know that her last consort was skimming off all of us and finally tried to sell her out to the Dai Li?"

Zuko stared at her for several moments. "What?" he asked finally, his voice dull with shock.

Hana nodded. "Yes. And nobody wants to deal with that again. Including her."

Zuko frowned. "I would never—"

"I believe you," Hana said, her face communicating that this was more because she did not think him quite clever enough to achieve such deception than because she believed in his integrity. "But we don't know you. Nobody knows you here. And if you start making waves, people _will_ take action to make sure they don't become a tsunami." She laughed a little and caught his eye. "Sorry for the rather bombastic language, I'm something of a poet." Her face turned seriously. "But do heed my words." She sighed and added, almost to herself, "Katara has been like a sister to my daughter, and like the second child I would have wished for, if…" She shook her head and looked back at Zuko. "None of us would want to see her hurt."

He thought about snapping at her again, but that little "if" stayed his tongue. He did not want to think about what had led a woman like her, who seemed cultured and wise, perhaps even at one time of significant social position, to the brothel, or about the likelihood of his father's troops' involvement in that eventuality. And her warning was likely well-intentioned, if slightly insulting. She wouldn't have bothered if she didn't have some kind of fellow-feeling for him. So he took a long breath and said gently, "I'm not intending on hurting her."

Hana shot him a wry, sad smirk. "I wasn't saying emotionally. Though of course I do worry for her there, too." She looked over at Mrs. Su. "Go on and finish the accounts. Thank you for listening to me, Zuko. I can tell you are proud, and it must be hard to listen to a stranger's advice."

He shook his head, slightly surprised at her meekness. "Thank you, Hana. I wish you and your daughter well." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he stood and added, "She… seems to be a fine young woman."

Hana smiled fully at him. "She is."

Zuko nodded and wandered back to Mrs. Su's desk, his head swarming with doubts.

#

Katara sucked her teeth and muttered, "Shit."

One of her generals, Shu Lien, had just delivered the latest correspondence from some of her contacts within the Fire Nation. It had taken a good bit of doing, getting in touch with people from the court, earning their trust, and convincing them to give her reports on their movements and intentions. She didn't have any of the nobles informing for her, obviously, but most of those snooty idiots made the mistake of both assuming their servants didn't have eyes and ears and paying them definitely not enough money.

Most of the letters said the same bad things—the Fire Nation's troop movements, attempts to foster contacts within Ba Sing Se ( _traitors_ , hissed Katara's possessive animal brain), and recent technological innovations that would help them bring even greater devastation to the Earth Kingdom—but the one that was occupying her particular attention right now was especially egregious:

 _…Lord Ozai expressed anger at the continued independence of Earth Kingdom strongholds of Omashu and Ba Sing Se, ordering his generals and advisers to begin work on a novel plan for conquest. His generals pointed out that unless Ba Sing Se's fortifications were somehow compromised, any attack on the city would become a long siege effort, which, they submitted, would be unpopular both at home and among the troops. Fmr. Gen. Iroh, Dragon of the West, retorted that despite some level of cooperation within, most of the citizenry would resist his rule in favor of the Queen who most regard as a kind of folk heroine._ She smiled slightly at that, but the grin disappeared when she read what followed: _The Fire Lord then riposted, banging his fist on the table, that they must find a way to "wring the neck of that little water snake…"_

 _Upon Fire Lord's departure, generals agreed to pursue current plan of action, involving high-priority targets, inc. at least Gaoling village, Kyoshi Island, and continued disruption of sea transit to the city with cooperation from "our new friends..."_

 _…No further communications from internal dissidents, save for one. Most are in deep cover, hiding from the Fire Lord's retribution. However, did receive odd communique which appears to have origin among elite. Said merely, "Please see that this gets to the Queen of Thieves. If you receive a response, please leave behind third linens shelf in palace laundry." Enclosed in the envelope was this Pai Sho piece. Tested for poisons or other alterations before enclosing._

Katara fingered the white lotus tile. It was a black piece. Black, the color of the heavens, as opposed to white, the color of death. In other words, a kind of prayer, a message of hope. She thought she had a pretty good idea who had written the "odd communique."

She thought with a pang of Zuko. She'd woken up to a messenger bird from Shu Lien claiming that important intelligence had been gathered, that her orders were needed. Shu Lien was an old soldier, so if she said Katara needed to see something, she could be sure that it was urgent. But she would be lying to herself if she hadn't felt a sense of relief. Receiving the missive from Shu Lien had meant that she didn't have to talk to him about last night. That she didn't have to think about how she'd felt with him, how _good_ it had felt to have the attention of someone who was as sharp as she was. And she had left, and she hadn't said a damn thing to him, had just left instructions for him with the girls. And she was still technically his boss. Tui and La, what a fucking mess.

She rubbed her temples and raised her eyes to Shu Lien, who was standing in her default military pose, legs wide, arms behind her back, head slightly bowed. Seeing her lady's attention was on her again, Shu Lien raised her head and commented, "You see why I called you, lady."

Katara sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. "Yes, Shu Lien, I do." She lifted her hands. "Well, what do you think? I'm not too worried about Kyoshi; they can fend for themselves over there and anyway it's too far from us to be all that much use. But what are we going to do about Gaoling? If we lose it, we lose safe passage to the Fire Nation." Not to mention safe passage to and from the Fire Nation for our intelligence agents.

Shu Lien nodded, her expression thoughtful. Worried. She said, "Lady, I think Lady Beifong is a capable fighter, but she needs reinforcements. More than we can spare right now. I think the Fire Nation will aim to conquer the whole village in one fell swoop. They could do it with three hundred men, especially if they brought a siege weapon." She bowed slightly and added, "It's what I'd do."

"Me too," Katara agreed absently, tapping her fingers on the arm of her black throne. Her face hardened with resolve. "In fact, it's what I _will_ do. Feel like a trip to Gaoling, Shu Lien?"

The soldier looked confused. "Sorry, lady?"

Katara stood. "Make preparations for me and a squad of mercenaries to depart as soon as possible. Hama too." She smiled a dark smile. "They think taking Gaoling will be easy? We'll kill them all for their arrogance."

Shu Lien bowed. "Yes, lady."

#

Fei was struggling to keep up with her mistress as she darted down the halls of the Thieves' Lair. "Katara, this is crazy," she murmured, panting slightly. "We need you _here_."

Katara waved a hand dismissively. "No, you don't. You and Loh can handle things. And—" she winced—"and Zuko is a strong fighter. Don't hesitate to deploy him if the Dai Li want to cut up rough while I'm gone."

"My lady, what if there are more troops than you bargain for? Gaoling is landlocked, you will not have the same capabilities—"

Katara raised a hand again, coming to a full stop. "Fei. I know it's risky. But if we send them off with their tails between their legs now, while they're still underestimating us, we will have time to prepare if they decide to strike the city. Which they will, any day now."

Fei heaved an exasperated sigh and said, " _My lady_ , if they find out you are gone, they could come down upon us _that very day_."

Katara smirked wryly at her adviser. "So don't let them find out." She turned to face Fei, placing her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "I will be gone no longer than a week, I promise," she said more gently, and continued, "Until my return, I want you to keep them on the offensive. I've ordered Shu Lien and the others to arrange for some… diplomatic intervention. We know the identities of a few of the Dai Li's little twitterers. They'll be disposed of soon, and that should keep the Dai Li and their Fire Nation friends scrambling for a while. We're increasing our overland shipments of arms and goods. And I've got Jiyu and Taiji working on a plan to fit out some of our smuggler ships with a little more firepower. We're gonna send some enforcers out instead of smugglers, get them to harass any ships that shoot first."

Fei sighed. "It's a thorough plan, Katara, I'll admit it. But what if they sense you're planning something big and decide to crush us for good this time?"

Katara sighed too and said, "Fei. It's only a matter of time before they attack us. Do you understand that?" Fei opened her mouth, but Katara cut her off, finishing, "So we can either sit here and wait or we can try to _do_ _something_." Fei still looked worried, so Katara squeezed her shoulders. "Fei. You are smart, shrewd, and an excellent leader. You will have the help of the entire organization I built under you. It will be fine." She slapped her shoulder and said, "Now go get 'em."

Fei's face hardened with determination. She bowed. "Yes, my lady."

#

The lights were off in the room he'd slept in with Katara. He'd considered moving rooms, but it had felt… wrong, somehow. In his head he'd spent the day in here, so he stayed. Thankfully the girls got him new sheets and showed him to a better shower than the sad little washbasin that skulked in the corner of each room, so he was clean, his sheets were clean, and now he was trying, highly unsuccessfully, to sleep.

After closing his eyes for the fifth time, determined to make it stick, he heard a knock and a voice. "Zuko?" He was angry at the relief that flooded his chest when he heard her say his name, so he didn't respond. In the half-light spilling in from the hall, he saw her shape enter the room. "Zuko, are you awake?"

The hesitation in her voice was painful, so he sat up and said, "Yes."

He saw her white teeth gleam in the light as she smiled. "Good, good. Listen, I'll take you back to the Lair." She laughed awkwardly and added, "You didn't think I was just going to let you sleep in the brothel again, did you?"

He glared at her. "I didn't know _what_ to think, Katara. You just left."

She bit her lip and rubbed her arm, looking guilty. "I—I know. It was important, I—" she made a frustrated noise and reached out to tug on his shoulder, almost like a child tugging on her father's sleeve. "Just come on. I got a proper room set up, and—"

"Katara, are we really not going to talk about it?" he snapped.

She did not do him the discourtesy of pretending not to know what he meant, but she looked tense. "Look, Zuko, I just—I can't, right now, all right? I am busy."

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Really? Not too busy to lie with me all night, though," he said tersely, a tinge of smugness leaking into his tone.

But this was the wrong thing to say. Her face closed up and she said stiffly, "Listen. I did need the release. I'm grateful for that. But that doesn't mean I _owe_ you anything."

He scoffed and replied, "What, not even the basic decency of letting me know what you're feeling? Whether you regret sleeping with me?" He was shocked that his voice almost broke as he said that fear aloud, but he forged ahead. "Katara, that was not fair. You could've left a goddamn note, could've come to see me before now. It really wouldn't have been hard to just—"

"What do you want from me?" she said in a kind of whisper-yell, her arms folded across her chest.

He leaned forward, eyes narrowed, and said, "An apology would be nice."

"Fine! I'm _so_ sorry I didn't prioritize your precious feelings over an impending attack from the Fire Nation!" she huffed. "Now will you please just get off the damn bed and come with me?"

"No," said Zuko incredulously. "No, I won't! Not when you're being this childish."

Katara actually drew back, her expression outraged. " _I'm_ being childish. One night of sex and you think you're suddenly my boyfriend or something, and _I'm_ being childish?"

That stung, and he was distracted by her mention of an attack from the Fire Nation— _what? Do they know I'm here? Uncle_ —so he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, counted to ten before he responded. Feeling a little calmer, despite the fact that she was still bristling, he finally said, "Katara. I don't think that asking you to communicate with me, even a little, is unreasonable. I don't think that admitting that you leaving and treating me like a servant after last night was… confusing… is unreasonable." He looked her in the eyes and finished, "You might be my boss, but you still have to treat me like an equal if we're going to have a sexual relationship. Of any kind."

Suddenly her mouth quirked up, and she giggled a little, looking like she was fighting it all the while. Offended, slightly relieved, he asked, "What's funny about what I said just now?"

" 'A sexual relationship.' Are we negotiating a contract? You're so weird and formal, Zuko." At last she dumped herself on the bed, nearly squashing his foot, seated so that she was looking away from him. "Look, um." She sighed. "I am sorry. That I left. I just—" she threw up her hands. "Things are getting bad. I don't—I don't want to make a mistake, now. A lot of people depend on me."

He moved closer and touched her shoulder. "You said something about a Fire Nation attack," he said gently.

She nodded. "Yes. They're planning to conquer Gaoling. It's—it's an important village." She sighed softly and added, "And one of my best friends lives there."

"What are you going to do?"

She looked at him wryly. "You're not going to like it."

He shrugged and smirked at her. "I thought the point of this whole conversation was that you don't care whether I like the things you do."

She tensed up again and glared. "That's not—"

But he moved closer, coming out from under the blankets to sit next to her and stroke his hand soothingly along her thigh. "I was joking, Katara. Please tell me."

She leaned into his touch and said, "I'm going to try to ambush them." She looked up at him, and the chill in her gaze reminded him of when she had tried to kill the john. "I said I would kill them all. And I will."

He couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "Most of those soldiers are kids, you know. Barely our age. Especially for an attack on a small village, they probably won't send seasoned troops." He looked in her eyes and said quietly, "I just want you to know that."

Katara shook her head. "Gaoling is not small. And apparently, they really want to take it. They know it would be demoralizing to what's left of the Earth Kingdom if it fell." She looked at him for a few moments, searching his face, and finally said, "But I'll remember that. Thank you."

He let out a rough, shaky breath. "I… I still think of them as my people, even if most of them wouldn't agree." He looked at his hands, folded in his lap. "I still want to protect them."

Katara nodded slowly and said simply, "It does you credit."

He laughed a little and said, "Right." They relaxed into the silence together, his hand still stroking up and down her thigh. She moved so that she was leaning on his side a little, her hand kind of around his waist. She started to trace her fingers along the top of his pants and he blurted, "Take me with you."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Take me with you," he repeated. "I know how they fight. And anyway, I'm supposed to be your bodyguard, right? My job is to protect you, in exchange for your protecting me." He looked away and added, "And maybe my uncle will be there."

She looked sympathetic, but she shook her head. "I need you here, Zuko. For one thing, what if they see you fighting for me? That could bring them down on all of us."

"They won't. I'm good at being stealthy, and all I need is a mask." He raised his hands to cup her face, and she flinched a little, but let him touch her. "Please, Katara."

This time, she sounded genuine as she said, "I'm sorry, Zuko. I can't take that risk. I'm already risking a lot by going there myself. And I need you to help Fei and the others." She smiled at him and said, "It can't hurt to have a bender almost as powerful as me on their side just in case."

Zuko pulled away a little and said, "Katara. My uncle doesn't even know if I'm alive. What if he comes here to see and gets himself killed? I can't—I can't let that happen." He's the only family I have.

Her face brightened for a moment and she replied, "Wait. I think we can do something about that." She rummaged in some pocket that he wouldn't have thought could exist in such a skintight garment, and retrieved a black tile with the image of a white lotus on it. "I think he sent me this. I think he sent it to me in order to ask whether you were alive." She pressed it into his hand and he stared at it, overcome. "So I'll give you one of mine to send him. We'll send it to our contact by messenger bird. He'll know you're safe before we leave."

He sat speechless for a few more moments, and then he drew her in for a kiss. "Thank you, Katara," he said against her lips.

"Of course," she murmured back, and leaned in to kiss him again.

But he pulled away, much to her consternation. "I'm still angry at you, you know," he murmured, grinning.

Katara heaved a sigh with an exasperation that was only partly feigned. "Oh come on, Zuko, don't be a tease," she joked back, flicking him lightly on his bicep.

He smirked and leaned in so close their lips were almost touching. Her breath panted against his mouth and he let himself enjoy it for a few seconds before he whispered, "But you like it."

She moaned and dragged him closer, but he pulled away again, dragging them both to a standing position in the process. "You said something about making up a room for me in the Lair?"

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and took his hand. "Yes. Come on." And this time he did.

#

The room she had prepared really was nice. The sheets were expensive, and there was a lovely mahogany desk that looked brand-new with a comfortable chair. There was an en-suite bathroom with hot water and fine soaps. When he opened the dresser, it was full of clothes. He started to ask, "How—" and she blushed and said playfully, "I may have had one of my seamstresses get your measurements from your old clothes while you were in the shower that day."

"Thank you," he said, slightly hesitant. "This is all, well, very nice."

She shook her head. "No, of course. You have to look good. How you present yourself reflects on me."

He tensed a little. Looking good had been important to his father, too, and the memory made him uncomfortable. "Of course," he replied, trying to keep the coldness out of his tone.

But she caught it. She shifted a little and added, "And, well, it's important that you have what you need to do good work." She touched his arm and added, "If you need anything else, tell me or Loh, and we'll get it for you."

"Of course," he repeated, then ran his hands through his hair and added drily, "It's understandable. You want your harem boys to look nice."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oh Zuko, come on. I was _trying_ to be considerate." She darted over to the dresser and pulled something out of a bottom drawer. "Look, I even got you this."

He drifted over to her, putting a hand thoughtlessly on her shoulder. It was—it was his Blue Spirit mask, but nicer. He thought he could see gold and lapis lazuli shining through the marks on the demonic face, and the wood was well-lacquered. The mask's band was made of good material, strong but not uncomfortable.

She pulled away from him a little, suddenly shy. "And there's these. For your swords," she clarified needlessly, handing over the sheaths. They were made of bamboo, lacquered as well, and painted a deep midnight blue. "They're light, so it'll be easier to carry them," she added quietly.

He embraced her from behind, nuzzling his face into her neck. "Thank you, Katara. They're beautiful."

She flushed again and said, "Yes, well. I thought they might be useful."

He nipped her neck and said, "Will you get me nice things every time you piss me off?"

She laughed and swatted him. "You're not funny, you know."

"I know," he said, and moved his hands to the top of her pants. "When are you leaving for Gaoling?"

She rubbed against him and sighed, "Not till the morning."

"Good," he grunted, and tugged her pants down, bending her over the dresser.


End file.
